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WINTER BIRDS 







FRANK M , CHAPMAN 





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Permanent Residents 



Winter Landbirds of 
Northeastern United States 



Plate I (Scale 



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Permanent Resident Species or those which 
are with us throughout the year 

1 . Bob- white, male 

2. Bob-white, female 

3. Ruffed Grouse 

4. Red-shouldered Hawk, adult 

5. Red- tailed Hawk, young 

6. Red-tailed Hawk, adult 

7. Sparrow Hawk, male 

8. Sparrow Hawk, female 

9. Cooper's Hawk, young female 

10. Cooper's Hawk, adult male 

1 1 . Sharp-shinned Hawk, adult male 

12. Sharp-shinned Hawk, young female 

13. Screech Owl, gray phase 

14. Screech Owl, rufous phase 

15. Barred Owl 

16. Great Horned Owl 

17. Long-eared Owl 

18. Short-eared Owl 

19. Crow 



OUR WINTER BIRDS 



By Frank M. Chapman 

Curator of Ornithology in the American Museum of 

Natural History 
Handbook of Birds of Eastern North America 

Revised Edition. With Keys to the Species, 

Descriptions of their Plumages, Nests, etc., and 

their Distribution and Migrations. With over 

200 Illustrations. Also in 

Pocket Edition, with flexible covers. 
Bird -Life. A Guide to the Study of our Common Birds 

Popular Edition in colors. 
Bird Studies With a Camera. With Introductory 

Chapters on the Outfit and Methods of the Bird 

Photographer. 

Illustrated with over 100 photographs from 

Nature by the Author. 
The Warblers of North America 

With Contributions from other Ornithologists and 

24 full-page Colored Plates illustrating every 

Species, from Drawings by L. A. Fuertes and B. 

Horsfall, and Half-tones of Nests and Eggs. 
Camps and Cruises of an Ornithologist 

With 250 Photographs from Nature by the 

Author. 
Color Key to North American Birds 

Revised Edition. With over 800 pictures. 
The Travels of Birds 
Our Winter Birds 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

Publishers New York 




A WINDOW LUNCH COUNTER 



OUR WINTER BIRDS 

HOW TO KNOW 

AND 

HOW TO ATTRACT THEM 



BY 

FRANK M. CHAPMAN 

CURATOR OF BIRDS IN THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY; 
EDITOR OF "BIRD LORE" 




ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY 

EDMUND J. SAWYER 



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

NEW YORK LONDON 

1918 






Copyright, 191 8, by 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 



■V 30i9i8 



Printed in the United States of America 



"750 



EXPLANATION OF PLATES. 

Plates I and II contain all the commoner (and 
some of the rarer) winter land birds of the north- 
eastern United States. They are arranged on shelves 
as if they were displayed in a museum case. In 
fact, the idea for illustrations grew from a seasonal 
collection of birds which many years ago the author 
placed on exhibition in the American Museum of 
Natural History. The figures are small, but so 
accurately has Mr. Sawyer drawn them that minute 
details of form and color are shown as effectively 
as though the birds were much larger. The great 
advantage of these figures over most bird illus- 
trations is that all those in the same case are drawn 
to the same scale. (The scale in Plate II being 
slightly larger than in Plate I.) One can therefore 
gain a better idea of actual size from these drawings 
than is possible when the Crow and Kinglet, for 
example, are made of equal size. Furthermore, this 
plan permits of the direct comparison of one species 
with another, while a glance at the two plates 
gives one a comprehensive conception of our winter 
bird-life. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction 3 

Home Birds 2 3 

Field Birds • • 94 

Forest Birds 13* 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
A Window Lunch Counter .... Frontispiece 

PAGE 

A Rustic Feeding-stand and Shelter 19 

A Woodpecker's Spear 38 

Downy' s Chisel and Climber 41 

Cardinal 59 

The Goldfinch Loops the Loop 70 

The Brown Creeper's Probe-like Bill and Pointed 

Stiffened Tail-feathers 74 

Two of White-throat's Songs jy 

Lapland Longspur .110 

The Hawk-like Bill of the Shrike 113 

Meadowlark (upper figure) and Bob-white . . . 118 

Sparrow Hawk 127 

The Powerful Groping Feet of (A) An Owl, (B) A 

Hawk 135 

Red-shouldered Hawk 138 

Sharp-shinned Hawk Pursuing a Redpoll . . . 142 

The Slender Foot of a Ruffed Grouse in Summer 
(Left) and (Right) The Fringed Foot of a Ruffed 

Grouse in Winter, When the Bird Dons Snowshoes 155 

Evening Grosbeak 163 

Carolina Wren 174 

Mockingbird . * . . 177 

ix 



INTRODUCTION 



OUR WINTER BIRDS 



INTRODUCTION 



THE BIRDS AND YOU 




HEN we draw down the shades on a 
winter night we seem to divide the 
world into two parts. On one side 
lie cold and darkness ; on the other, 
warmth and light. Outside, it may- 
be snowing; the wind howls, the 
windows rattle before its fierce blasts. Inside, a fire 
crackles cheerfully on the hearth; there is protection 
from the storm, food, and comfort. 

How fares it then with those on the other side of 
the window? What are our friends, the birds, doing 
out there in the blackness? They have no fireside, 
no cosy chairs to nestle in, no one to prepare a 
warm supper for them. An evergreen bough, a hol- 
low limb, or even a snow-drift is all the shelter they 

can hope for; and if they have not had good luck 

3 



4 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

foraging In the afternoon they must go to bed hun- 
gry. 

When we draw the shades in summer there is 
warmth outside as well as in. The leaves seem to 
rustle contentedly in the night breeze. A Robin is 
singing his slumber song. Soon a Whip-poor-will 
will begin his chant. 

All's well now with the birds. We envy them 
their sleep beneath the stars, the awakening in the 
dawn; their freedom to wander at will and choose 
from Nature's bountiful stores. Who would not be 
a bird in summer? 

But a winter night in the open seems chill and 
dreary. We pity the homeless and wish we could 
give them firesides like our own. So in the winter 
the birds seem to need our care and to be in some 
way dependent upon us. For this reason they oc- 
cupy a much warmer place in our affections than do 
the birds of summer. Our relations with them seem 
more intimate. 

The twittering Juncos at our doorstep, the Nut- 
hatches and Woodpeckers at our suet-baskets, the 
Chickadees that take food from our hands, are not 
only our welcome guests but our personal friends. 

It is not only what we give them, but what they 
give us, that should make us thankful for birds in 
winter. I look from my window over the white ex- 



INTRODUCTION 5 

panse of snow. The sky is gray; the shutters creak 
fretfully in the wind. The glory of a summer gar- 
den is marked only by a stalk or two above the snow. 
The world seems dead, when a feathered mite flits 
through the air, perches on a nearby limb and calls 
a merry "Chick-a-dee-dee~dee." 

What a difference in the scene his coming makes ! 
What good cheer and contentment he brings with 
him! 

When we go to the fields and woods in winter, 
birds are the only living creatures we are sure of 
seeing. Tree Sparrows chatter happily over their 
breakfast of seeds; a Nuthatch stops his search for 
insects' eggs long enough to look down and greet us 
with his queer "yank-yank." A Downy Woodpecker, 
intent on the capture of a grub, hammers indus- 
triously, tap-tap-tap. He is too busy to stop, but 
calls his clear "peek" to us as we pause to watch him. 
What a sense of companionship we have with these 
feathered friends of ours ! They make us feel at 
home with Nature. How lonely we should be with- 
out them! 

THE BIRDS OUR ALLIES 

We are indebted to these winter birds for more 
than their friendship ; for more than giving life to 
the otherwise silent fields and woods. They are our 



6 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

active allies in the warfare to save our crops and 
forests from the army of insects that ceaselessly at- 
tack them. 

The Tree Sparrows breakfasting on seeds, the 
Nuthatch hunting insects* eggs, the Woodpeckers 
digging out grubs, were all working for us. The 
Chickadees that accept our invitation to luncheon 
repay us a countless number of times for the suet 
and nuts we offer them. 

Every one knows that insects are harmful to vege- 
tation and that birds are their chief enemies; but 
who knows that the seed-eating birds are also of 
great value to us? 

If you have ever had a garden to care for it is 
not necessary to tell you how constantly you have 
to fight the weeds to prevent them from over-grow- 
ing the flowers or vegetables that you have planted. 

There are ragweed and purslane, crab-grass and 
pigweed, and many others. Hoe and rake as you 
will, you never can get rid of them. Just as soon 
as you retire from the field, they seem to take pos- 
session of it. In the garden, in the potato-field, in 
the stubble, the crop of weed-seeds never fails. Who 
harvests it? Why, our friends the Sparrows. The 
seeds of the plants that cause so much trouble are 
their chief food in winter. Birds are known to eat 
the seeds of over one hundred different kinds of 



INTRODUCTION 7 

weeds, and the quantity they devour is almost un- 
believable. 

What the Tree Sparrow Does 

The Tree Sparrows that were chattering so so- 
cially over their breakfast were at the same time do- 
ing their share toward the destruction of seeds that, 
without their help, we should have had to fight the 
following summer. Perhaps we may think their 
share a small and unimportant one; but as we con- 
tinue our walk we find a company of Tree Sparrows 
in nearly every field and all are gathering and crush- 
ing seed with their sharply pointed, stout little bills. 

If we watched them throughout the day we should 
find that they passed most of their time in the same 
useful occupation; and we might estimate the num- 
ber of seeds each bird devours in one day. Then, 
with the help of others, we might continue our 
studies of Tree Sparrows over a much larger area 
until we knew about how many there were in each 
square mile. 

This was the method pursued by Professor Beal, 
one of the greatest authorities on the food of birds. 
His studies were made in the state of Iowa, where 
he estimated that from October to April, or for 
some two hundred days, the Tree Sparrow popu- 
lation averaged about ten to each square mile. Each 



8 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

Sparrow was believed to eat about one-fourth of an 
ounce of weed-seeds daily. At this rate, the total 
consumption for the season would be 1,750,000 
pounds, or 875 tons ! Is this not indeed an almost un- 
believable amount? Still, Professor Beal tells us that 
these figures "unquestionably fall short of reality." 

Now I have no doubt that in the state of Iowa, 
as well as in all the other states inhabited by the 
Tree Sparrow in winter, few farmers realize what 
an invaluable helper they have in this little, brown, 
streaked Sparrow. But if some one were to adver- 
tise in the papers of Iowa that he intended to sow 
875 tons of weed-seed in the state, do you believe 
that he would be permitted to do it? Would he not 
be branded as an enemy of every citizen of the com- 
monwealth, who, if he persisted in his evil intent, 
should be placed under arrest? 

Just one kind of Sparrow actually prevents Nature 
from sowing these tons of seeds, and what reward 
does it receive? Do we give it a vote of thanks? 
No ! Often the State has not given it the legal pro- 
tection it so well deserves. The Government at 
Washington has therefore taken the Tree Sparrow, 
and all other migratory birds, under its care as 
wards of the nation, and hereafter they may travel 
throughout our land as Citizens of the United States 
under the guardianship of Federal law. 



INTRODUCTION 9 

How the Chickadee Helps 

Chickadee seems so free of care as he flits from 
limb to limb, that only those who have studied his 
bill-of-fare know what he is doing for us. Perhaps 
if he realized the importance of his services the re- 
sponsibilities of life would weigh more heavily upon 
him, and he might be as serious as a Brown Creeper. 

Some years ago Mr. Forbush, ornithologist of 
the state of Massachusetts, invited the Chickadees 
and their friends to be his guests in an old orchard 
during the winter. Various kinds of food were of- 
fered them, but this did not prevent the birds from 
doing some foraging on their own account. The 
eggs of the cankerworm and tent caterpillar, and of 
other enemies of trees formed their principal fare. 
The birds were studied closely, and it was learned 
that one Chickadee would eat over 250 cankerworm 
eggs at a meal. In the course of a day, therefore, 
it might destroy more than twice this number. 

It was also discovered that from March 20 to 
April 15, each Chickadee would devour an average 
of thirty female cankerworm moths per day. As 
each moth contained about 180 eggs we see that, be- 
tween the dates named, a single Chickadee might 
destroy as many as 5,000 cankerworm eggs in one 
day! 



io OUR WINTER BIRDS 

This surprising record gives us some idea of what 
Chickadee is doing for us. Mr. Forbush's Chicka- 
dees, and the birds he attracted the following sum- 
mer, actually saved his orchard for him. He tells 
us that "the trees bore luxuriant foliage during the 
entire summer and produced a good crop of fruit." 
His next neighbor's orchard was also protected by 
the birds but "elsewhere in the town," he writes, 
"most of the apple trees were defoliated and very 
few produced any fruit that year. While the re- 
sult secured in such an exceptional year seemed re- 
markable, the experience of succeeding years has 
demonstrated that it was not so. Year after year 
we have kept our trees free from serious insect in- 
jury, without spraying or otherwise protecting the 
foliage, merely by a little effort and expenditure to 
attract the birds and furnish them safe homes." 

WHY WE SHOULD KNOW THE BIRDS 

Here, then, are three excellent reasons why we 
should all make friends with the birds in winter. 
First, because winter is the only season when birds 
may actually need our bounty. It is not the cold 
from which they suffer. In their warm, feathered 
suits they are probably just as comfortable out of 
doors as we are at our firesides. It is when pro- 
longed storms prevent them from venturing forth to 



INTRODUCTION n 

feed, or heavy snows cover the weed stalks, or ice 
encases the limbs, that we may come to their relief 
and save them from starvation. Second, because in 
the silence and solitude of winter the companionship 
of birds is more welcome than at any other time 
of the year. Third, because the winter birds are 
powerful allies of the gardener and farmer. 

To these three reasons we may add a fourth : that 
winter is the best season in which to begin the study 
of birds. We will not then be discouraged by the 
overwhelming abundance of bird-life of migration 
time or of summer. 

During the winter only the birds which remain 
throughout the year, and which are termed Per- 
manent Residents, and those that come from the 
north and are known as Winter Visitants, are with 
us. 

If you see fifteen different kinds of birds in a 
morning's walk you will have done well. There may 
be many individuals of each kind, and this fact will 
give you an excellent opportunity to observe the 
colors and markings of each species. If you have 
no bird book with you, you should write careful 
descriptions of the strange birds you see, while you 
see them, and, on returning, you should have little 
difficulty in selecting from the colored plates the 
birds you have found and described. 



12 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

When the birds come back to us from the south, 
as many as one hundred and thirty different kinds 
have been seen by one person in a si igle day. The 
time will come when you will look forward impa- 
tiently for the return of these feathered travelers. 
The days when they seem to throng every ire? are, 
to the bird-lover, the most enjoyable and exciting in 
the whole year. But to begin to make friends with 
the birds in May, is as confusing as it is to enter a 
room filled with people none of whom we know. 

So let us get acquainted with the winter birds 
before the birds of spring arrive from their homes 
in the south. I shall introduce you first to the birds 
of our threshold, lawn, and orchard; the everyday 
birds, that seem as much interested in us as we 
are in them. Probably you know many of them al- 
ready. 

Then we shall go to the fields and woods in search 
of the birds that rarely if ever come about our 
homes. We shall have to go much more than half- 
way to meet them, and perhaps just for that reason 
we shall value their friendship even more highly 
than we do that of the commoner, more trustful 
birds. 

Birds' eyes are so much sharper than ours and 
we are so much larger than the birds, that prob- 
ably birds can see all they want to of us long before 



INTRODUCTION 13 

we are near enough to see all we want of them. So 
we should have an opera or field-glass in order to 
see size, shape, colors and markings of the birds 
clearly, and a note-book in which to enter what we 
have seen. 



INVITING THE BIRDS 




UR love of pets and desire to have 
them about us often brings beneath 
our roof animals which are not on 
the best of terms with one another. 
We may be equally fond of our cat 
and our terrier, while they exhibit 
only armed neutrality toward one another. Our 
setter's instinct to capture chickens may never be 
overcome by training. Remember, therefore, that 
pussy, purring so cosily by your fireside, was born 
a bird killer, and few indeed are the cats which can 
be trained to observe the game-laws. Nor should 
we expect them to do so. 

A host who knowingly exposes his guests to the 
danger of death is surely less a host than a mur- 
derer. Unless, therefore, we can be reasonably sure 
that the birds will be as safe near our homes as they 
are in their own haunts, it is far better for us to go 
to them rather than to ask them to come to us. 

But cats are everywhere; in field and forest, as 
well as lawn and garden. If, therefore, we can con- 



INTRODUCTION 15 

trol the cat-problem immediately about our homes, 
we need not hesitate to offer our hospitality to the 
birds, provided we observe certain precautions when 
entertaining them. Most important of these is plac- 
ing our "dining tables" and "lunch counters" beyond 
the reach of our neighbor's cat. (There will always 
be a neighbor's cat.) Or if it be so situated that a cat 
might climb to it, for example in a tree or bush, let 
there be some protection, either of roof or branches, 
which will prevent a cat from springing on it. 

If it be on the ground, let it be open at both ends 
so that when the enemy enters at one, the birds may 
escape at the other. 

THE LODGING 

We cannot expect the birds to be more than pass- 
ing callers unless we provide them with lodging as 
well as with food. 

Evergreens make the best birds' bed-rooms, and 
they can be used the year around. Close-limbed ar- 
bor-vitae and cedar give more protection than the 
more open-branched spruce and pine. These trees 
offer food as well as shelter and are therefore first 
on the bird host's list. 

Densely planted bushes and tangles of vines on 
southern exposures make safe and snug sleeping 
quarters even when the leaves are off. Brush heaps 



1 6 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

make serviceable roosts and may be placed where 
needed in winter, to be removed when the foliage 
of summer turns every tree into a dormitory. Left 
in some inconspicuous position and over-run with 
vines, they offer capital nesting-places for Catbirds 
and Thrashers. I have made an attractive lodging 
house for birds by stacking lima bean poles, with the 
vines still attached, in the form of a tepee. 

Having assured our feathered guests safe and 
comfortable quarters, we must prepare a bill-of-fare 
which will appeal to their varied tastes. 

There should be cone-bearing trees for the Cross- 
bills, Pine Grosbeaks and Siskins, box elder and 
mountain ash for a possible Evening Grosbeak, 
birches for the Redpolls, Virginia creeper for the 
Flickers and Waxwings, sunflowers for the Gold- 
finches, while dogwood, thorn crab-apple {Cratae- 
gus), privet, bayberry, staghorn sumach, viburnum, 
barberry and black alder all bear fruit which, ripen- 
ing in the fall, will not fail to attract winter birds. 

But nature's larder cannot be stocked in a day; 
nor can it always be kept filled. We must therefore 
substitute for it or add to it food which we have 
learned birds like; this we may offer to them in a 
variety of ways, always remembering that we are 
setting the table for birds and not for cats. 

Our pleasure in attracting the birds to our homes 



INTRODUCTION 17 

in winter is measured not only by-our success in giv- 
ing them shelter and food during the bleak and bar- 
ren season, but also by the extent to which we gain 
their confidence and win their companionship. We 
want not only to bring the birds to our gardens but 
to our threshold, and for this reason the most satis- 
factory feeding device is a window lunch counter. 

An ideal window has a southern exposure with 
nearby trees and bushes without, and a dining room 
within where, as we sit down at our meals, we may 
see the birds at theirs. 

The table itself should be worthy of the guests 
we hope will honor it; not a soap-box or bare wooden 
slab, but a rustic tray with a railing by way of a 
perch, and at one end a small evergreen to which 
the birds may retire between courses. 

We cannot hope to receive immediate acceptances 
when we invite the birds to dine with us. Window- 
sills are not places in which they have been accus- 
tomed to look for food, and the habit of visiting 
them is not to be acquired at once. To hasten mat- 
ters one bird host 1 hung his table on a wire trolley 
some distance from the house, where the birds could 
easily see it. Soon after they found it, he drew it 
gradually toward his window and the birds followed 
it to its new position. 

*See Gilbert H. Trafton, "Bird Friends" (Houghton, Mifflin 
Company). 



1 8 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

A Dutcher window box x will bring the birds even 
nearer to us. This is a three-sided glass box which 
is made to fit the window-opening closely and on 
which the sash closes as tightly as it did on the sill. 
It projects about a foot into the room, while the 
wooden floor, or food tray, extends also outward the 
same distance beyond the sill. Food is inserted 
through a lid in the top. 

Meals may be served in the garden on feeding 
stands, or in the trees, but again let us not forget that 
the cat will come without any invitation. A rustic 
feeding stand will prove more serviceable and more 
sightly than many of the devices now in use. An 
evergreen bough, thatched or rustic roof may be 
added for purposes of protection and concealment. 

The accompanying diagram shows such a stand 
as I have in mind. In place of the broad tray, which 
offers birds no foothold, and does not clearly indi- 
cate each guest's place at the table, as it were, I pre- 
fer a hollowed limb or a bark-covered trough in 
which the food may be placed. This provides a 
natural perch on which the birds look, and doubt- 
less feel, far more at home than on a flat floor. Two 
of these limbs placed on the same upright more than 
double the feeding capacity of this "branch estab- 
lishment" since it permits uncongenial guests to take 

x See E. H. Baynes, "Wild Bird Guests" (E. P. Dutton & Co.). 



INTRODUCTION 19 

seats at different tables. A third smaller limb may 
be placed well up under the roof for use as a roost- 
ing-perch, while barbed wire wound about the base 
of the upright as far as the lower food trough will 




A Rustic Feeding-Stand and Shelter 

act as a cat-guard. This stand should be situated in 
a sheltered spot, and, if possible, where it will be a 
half-way house to the window tray. 

THE BILL-OF-FARE 

In preparing a bill-of-f are for our prospective bird 
guests, we must remember that among them are 



20 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

both insect- and seed-eaters. For the former we 
should have a never-failing supply of suet. This 
may be tied to the upright post of the garden stand 
between the troughs, and attached to the frame at 
the side of the window tray. The Chickadee, Nut- 
hatches, Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers and Brown 
Creeper are especially fond of this food and it will 
also be taken by the Jays and Starlings. 

For the seed-eating Sparrows and Grosbeaks we 
should offer hemp, canary and sun flower seed, Jap- 
anese millet, cracked corn and mixed chick-feed; 
crumbs and broken dog-biscuit. Unroasted peanuts 
and other nuts are eagerly eaten by birds of both 
classes. 

Wherever we spread a table for the birds, the 
English Sparrows will probably be the first to come 
and the last to go. Even the pugnacious, noisy little 
Sparrows are better than no birds at all, but we 
surely do not want them when they crowd our native 
birds from the places we wish thern to fill. 

Since Sparrows are mainly ground feeders, it has 
been suggested that if we sprinkle a supply of grain 
on the ground near the feeding stand, they will visit 
it and leave the Chickadees, Nuthatches, and Downy 
to enjoy their meals unmolested. 



HOME BIRDS 



II 

HOME BIRDS 




HE kind of birds which you may ex- 
pect to visit you will, of course, 
depend upon the location and sur- 
roundings of your home. Do you 
dwell in town or country; in the 
midst of fields or at the border of 
woods? Are there trees and bushes near the house; 
do you provide food and shelter for birds in winter? 
Some fortunate people are so favorably situated 
that they may expect to entertain our rarest winter 
visitors, while others may hope to receive calls only 
from English Sparrows and Starlings. 

All the birds placed in this section I know to have 
visited a home in one of the large suburban towns 
near New York City. It is not a large place and 
there are other houses near by, but much planting 
and little trimming has given birds the cover that 
their natures insist they shall have. 

Cats are here unknown and a bountiful lunch- 
counter offers a never-failing supply of the things 
that birds love. 

23 



CHICKADEES 




A BIRD WITHOUT FEAR 

{Fig. 32) 

F we should keep a guest-book and 
write in it the names of all our 
bird visitors, "Chickadee," I am 
sure, would be entered on nearly 
every page. Of all our birds he is 
the most friendly. Fearlessly he 
comes so near us that we can see his bright little 
black eyes shine, and then introduces himself by 
calling his name so clearly that no one can fail to 
understand him. It is just as though he said: "How 
do you do? / am Chickadee-dee-dee." No one can 
refuse to extend the hand of friendship to so de- 
lightful a caller. Often he will honor us by accept- 
ing it as a perch, which, I suppose, is as near as a 
bird can come to shaking hands. 

Certainly no handshake ever arouses within us 
more cordial, kindly feelings than does the grip of 
Chickadee's little claws on our finger. We are so 

big and he is such a little fellow that when he ac j 

24 



HOME BIRDS 25 

tually places his life in our hand he shows a faith 
in our good-will that wins our heart. No one could 
betray Chickadee's trust. 

When you have a food-shelf to which the same 
Chickadees return day after day, it does not take 
long to make friends with them. Soon they will 
take a bit of nut from your hand and perch upon 
your head or shoulders to ask for more. Several 
times I have had this happen with strange Chicka- 
dees in the woods far from home. The experience 
was thrilling. I felt as though some sprite had 
touched me with a magic wand and admitted me into 
the ranks of woodland dwellers. 

If some day Chickadee touches you with his wand, 
I believe that you, too, will find he has opened a 
new world to you. A world of feathered folk whose 
ways are more wonderful than fairy tales. You will 
see them build their homes, quaint dwellings of grass 
and straw, sticks and mud, neatly furnished with 
hair, down or feathers. You will see the eggs, of 
many colors and curious markings, they lay in them. 
You will marvel, as all the world has marveled, that 
from these dainty, polished shells the young ones 
come. You may watch the parent birds care for 
their families, and see the birdlings grow and don 
their feathered suits. Perhaps you may actually be 
near by when they make their first journey in the 



26 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

world, and the untried wings bear them to a neigh- 
boring limb. Then you will learn how, with these 
wings, the migratory species may travel thousands 
of miles to their winter homes in the tropics and 
return to us the following spring. 

Best of all, your ears will be opened to the voices 
of birds. Woods and fields that before seemed silent 
will now ring with calls and songs. Many have a 
meaning to the birds that utter them and some day 
you too may understand them. 

The notes with which Chickadee first makes him- 
self known seem to us like a greeting. To them 
he adds some gurgles and chuckles, which we can- 
not interpret, though they sound very much like the 
things we should expect Chickadee to say. But we 
must not form our opinion of Chickadee's char- 
acter from his everyday conversation. In addition 
to the calls which have given him his name, he utters 
also a clear, high whistle of two or three notes. 
It is so musical, so sad and plaintive, so filled with 
tender sentiment that it is difficult to believe such a 
matter-of-fact fellow as Chickedee seems to be can 
be its author. 

As a boy, I knew the call long before I was aware 
that it was Chickadee's. When, on a winter's morn- 
ing, I heard it floating through the woods, I used 
to fancy that perhaps it was Jack Frost with an 



HOME BIRDS 27 

icicle for 1 flute. Finally I answered, and you may 
imagine my surprise when Chickadee came flitting 
along from tree to tree and, perching almost within 
reach, whistled the call which had so aroused my 
curiosity. 

It was just as though you should discover that 
some boy friend whom you had known for years, 
could not only talk and shout like all the rest of 
the boys, but that he was also a remarkable singer. 

These sweet notes are not Chickadee's song, for 
they are uttered by the female as well as the male, 
and we know that with nearly all birds only the 
male sings. Nevertheless, one hears them more fre- 
quently in March and April when Chickadee, with 
other birds, is looking for a mate. If his search is 
successful, it is followed, about the first week in 
May, by a hunt for a nesting place. This is always 
in a hole, usually in a stump or limb, and not more 
than fifteen feet above the ground. Sometimes a 
deserted Woodpecker's nest is chosen; at others, 
when the wood is more or less decayed and soft, 
Chickadee makes the hole himself. With only his 
stout little bill for a tool and stout little heart to 
urge on his work, he hammers persistently away 
until a big enough hole has been made. This is lined 
with soft plant-down, often from a fern, and with 
moss, fur, and feathers. 



28 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

For so small a bird Chickadee has a surprisingly 
large family. I once found a Chickadee's nest with 
nine eggs ; but six or seven is the usual number. They 
are white, spotted and speckled with brownish, 
chiefly at the larger end. 

There are busy times in the Chickadee family 
when the eggs hatch. Meals are served at all hours 
from daylight to dusk. In the opening chapter I 
have told you something of the debt we owe Chicka- 
dee when he hunts insects only for himself. Think, 
then, of the number he must destroy when he pro- 
vides food for a family of nine! 

Fortunately for their parents, the young Chicka- 
dees grow rapidly. Within a week after leaving 
the egg they have a feathered suit like that worn 
by their elders and in a few more days they leave 
their crowded quarters and, under their parents' 
care, begin to learn the ways of their kind. 

Chickadee is with us throughout the year and, 
therefore, belongs in the class of Permanent Resi- 
dents. We see him more frequently from October 
to May, when he visits our homes, than during the 
summer, when he returns to the woods to raise his 
family. 

In eastern North America there are three kinds 
of Chickadees. Our friend the Black-cap is the 
best known. He is found from central New Jersey 



HOME BIRDS 29 

to Canada, and, in the winter, as far south as the 
District of Columbia. 

From central New Jersey southward to the Gulf 
States we have the Carolina Chickadee. This is a 
slightly smaller bird with less whitish margins on 
the wing-feathers. Its "Chickadee" note is described 
as higher and more hurried, and its whistle call is 
usually composed of four notes instead of two, and 
is not so strong and clear as that of the more north- 
ern bird. 

In northern New England and Canada there is a 
third Chickadee generally known as the Hudsonian 
Chickadee. It has a brownish cap and its nasal 
drawling "tchick, chee-day-day" is so unlike the 
notes of our Black-cap that you should know the 
Hudsonian by his voice as well as his brownish 
crown. He rarely goes far from his summer home, 
but in winter has been seen in small numbers as far 
south as northern New Jersey. 



NUTHATCHES 



THE TOPSY-TURVY BIRDS 



White-Breasted Nuthatch 




{Figs. 3 8, 39) 

UDGED by the frequency with which 
they are seen together, one of 
Chickadee's best friends is the 
White-breasted Nuthatch. Dur- 
ing the summer, when both are oc- 
cupied with family cares, they have 
little time for each other's society, but in the winter 
they are inseparable companions. 

When, therefore, we hear Chickadee's greeting 
and soon find him swinging from limb to limb, we 
often hear also a strange voice saying "yank, yank" 
and chattering some words in a lower tone as though 
its owner was talking to himself. We look about to 
see who this can be and quickly find a short-tailed, 
long-billed, gray, black-capped bird who, we observe, 
runs down the trunk of a tree as easily as he can 
climb up. 

At the same moment he sees us, stops his search 

30 



HOME BIRDS 31 

for insects and their eggs, looks us over for a sec- 
ond or two, grunts another "yank-yank" and then 
continues his hunting. 

Evidently we are not as pleasing to White-breast 
as we are to Chickadee. His curiosity about us 
is soon satisfied. With patience and nuts we may 
sometimes induce him to perch on our hand, but it is 
the nut and not good-fellowship that attracts him. 
But we always welcome Nuthatch, and if he does not 
seem to care especially for us, he never hesitates to 
accept an invitation to our lunch counter. 

Nuthatch ought to be one of the great successes 
in the world of birds, for he is one of the few birds 
that seem to give thought to the morrow. We 
have all seen dogs bury bones, and some of us have 
seen a gray squirrel hide a nut, or have found the 
chipmunk's winter supply of provisions. This habit 
of storing food is not uncommon with animals that 
spend their lives in one place. But birds are more 
independent. If food fails in one part of the coun- 
try, their wings can soon take them to a land of 
abundance. It is not necessary for them to think 
about to-morrow's dinner. They have no closets or 
cellars for hoarding food. 

To this rule White-breast, or as he has also been 
called, White-vest, is an exception. Watch him 
when he comes to your food-shelf. See how freely 



32 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

he helps himself to suet! See, also, that he does 
not swallow it but flies off with it in his bill to a 
nearby tree. Here he creeps actively about looking 
for the right kind of a crack or crevice in the bark; 
when it is found the suet is placed in it and made 
secure by a few taps of the bill. Then White-breast 
hurries back to the lunch counter for more and that 
he hides in another bark cupboard. Perhaps he may 
repeat this performance many times, and if he can 
find each little storehouse, he has a memory of which 
any one might be proud. 

Sometimes White-breast takes a nut or acorn, 
wedges it tightly in a crack and then hammers away 
until the shell is broken, when he eats the kernel 
within. It is this habit which has given him the 
name of Nuthatch, though one might think that 
"Nutcracker" would be better. 

We must not judge White-breast's diet by the food 
he selects from the table we set for him and his 
friends. Even when this table is ready for him, he 
spends much time running up and down the trunks 
and limbs of the neighboring trees looking for the 
eggs and larvae of insects and spiders which form 
more than one-half his food. Many of the insects 
are the enemies of the trees on which they live and, 
in destroying them, White-breast repays us a thou- 
sand-fold for our contributions to his larder. 



HOME BIRDS 33 

Even White-breast's best friend would not call 
him a musician. His song suggests a kind of mirth- 
less laughter: "hah-hah-hah-hah-hah," he sings all 
on one note. Heard in May when the air resounds 
with the melodies of Thrushes and Grosbeaks, and 
Thrasher's far-flung measures, the humble effort of 
White-breast would pass unnoticed. But heard in 
early spring when every sign of the coming of sum- 
mer is eagerly welcomed, White-breast's monotone 
echoes pleasantly through the leafless woods. 

White-breast is among the earliest of small birds 
to nest. In the first half of April he and his mate 
find or make a hole in a tree or stump, and line it 
with feathers, leaves, and fur. Five to eight eggs 
are laid; they are creamy white, thickly and rather 
evenly spotted and speckled with reddish brown and 
purplish. In color the eggs of both White-breast 
and his friend Chickadee are an exception to the rule 
that birds which nest in holes and similar places lay 
white, unmarked eggs. 

The young White-breasts, like young Chicka- 
dees, wear a suit resembling that of their parents 
when they leave the nest. They do not at once ven- 
ture forth into the world alone, but remain under 
the guidance of their elders until they have learned 
to care for themselves. During this time, and 
perhaps longer, they may return every night to 



34 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

sleep in the snug quarters in which they were born. 
Late one afternoon in August, I stopped beneath 
a pine tree in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado 
to look at a Pygmy Nuthatch (a small cousin of 
White-breast). Soon I saw another and then a 
third, fourth and fifth; the tree seemed to be swarm- 
ing with Nuthatches ! They were chattering to one 
another and, as the light failed, they all began to 
come downward toward a large, horizontal limb not 
far above my head. In this limb there were two 
openings which looked as though they were con- 
nected. As I watched, one of the Nuthatches slipped 
into the opening nearest the trunk. He was quickly 
followed by a second and this one in turn by a third. 
In less than a minute there was a procession of Nut- 
hatches passing in at the same entrance, and when 
the last one disappeared I had counted twenty-eight ! 
Long before this number was reached I expected to 
see Nuthatches crowded out of the second opening, 
but the capacity of the limb to hold Nuthatches 
seemed unlimited. How many Nuthatch families, 
I wonder, shared this dormitory? 



HOME BIRDS 35 

Red-Breasted Nuthatch 
{Figs. 6o, 61) 

White-breast is with us throughout the year and 
belongs in the group of Permanent Residents. But 
he has a cousin in the north who comes to us in the 
fall and remains only until spring, and is therefore 
classed among the Winter Visitants. 

About September first, if you think you hear some 
one blowing a penny trumpet from a nearby pine or 
spruce tree, you will probably find that it is a Red- 
breast announcing his arrival from the north. He 
does not come every year, and when he does appear 
we cannot tell whether he will pass the winter with 
us or continue his journey further south. Red- 
breast is rather particular in his choice of food. He 
is fond of the seeds of pine or spruce cones and 
he is not likely to stay with us if he cannot find this 
kind of fare. 

Probably when it is to be had in his summer 
home in Canada and northern New England, he 
does not travel far southward. Doubtless this is 
the reason why Red-breast visits us in numbers some 
years and is not seen at all, or but rarely, in others. 

Red-breast's call is not so loud as that of White- 
breast, nor is it given in such a business-like way. 



36 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

He seems to drawl, through his nose, a high "yna- 
yna," quite different from the vigorous "yank-yank" 
of White-breast. 

He may be known by size and color as well as 
by voice. He has the black cap and gray back of 
White-breast, but is smaller and wears a black stripe 
from his eye to his ear, and his underparts are more 
or less strongly tinged with reddish brown. In the 
female, the crown and eye-stripe are grayish. 

Red-breast's nesting ways are much like those of 
White-breast, but living farther north he does not 
go to housekeeping before the first week in May. 



THE DOWNY AND HAIRY WOODPECKERS 



■ 



TWO CARPENTER COUSINS 

Downy Woodpecker 
{Figs. 26, 27) 

EITHER my curiosity nor interest 
is aroused when I hear a man 
hammer; but when the sound of 
Downy's tap-tap-tap comes to my 
ears I want to see him at work. 
He may greet me with a single 
word, u peek" — as clear and business-like as the tap- 
ping itself. To me it is a kind of code signal for 
u good-morning, I'm really glad to see you, but if you 
don't mind I'll go right on with what I'm doing 
here." 

What he is doing is of importance to him and 
mankind as well. He is getting his breakfast and 
at the same time ridding the tree of a grub which 
might have bored a channel through its heart. 

It is interesting to watch Downy hunting. He 
seems to be merely hitching his way up the tree. 
He taps here and there, picking out an insect's egg 

37 



38 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

by the way, but probably all the time he is listening 
for the borer within. When he hears it he goes to 
work in earnest. Without a pause he picks away 
busily. The chips fly before the strokes from his 
stout little chisel. In a surprisingly short time he 
has made an opening two or three inches deep. At 
the bottom of it lies the grub. Now Downy uses 
his spear. This is nothing less than his tongue, 
which Downy can thrust out an inch or more be- 
yond the end of his bill. Its tip is horny, sharply 



«r**v^. ^'^ifi 






^^^ 


£$■£ 


|§^Sli§# 







A Woodpecker's Spear 
'(Tip of Pileated Woodpecker's tongue, much enlarged) 

pointed, and barbed; just the kind of a weapon with 
which to impale grubs and draw them from their 
retreats. The grub captured, Downy sounds his 
sharp call, as if in triumph, and perhaps follows it 
with a short rolling rattle. Then he continues his 
hunting. 

Downy uses his bill as a combined pick and chisel 
not only to secure food, but also to provide a home 
for himself and his family. Early in May he selects 
a dead limb and makes a hole usually about fifteen 
to twenty feet from the ground, just large enough to 
enter. Then he hollows out a larger cavity within. 



HOME BIRDS 39 

While constructing this he hammers away quite out 
of sight, and it is often puzzling to locate the source 
of the muffled blows. A freshly made doorway, and 
chips scattered on the leaves below, give a clue to 
the hidden carpenter's whereabouts. 

His home is not furnished with the straws, hair, 
or feathers with which so many birds line their nests, 
and the four to six eggs are laid on the bare floor. 
Like those of all Woodpeckers, and of nearly all 
birds that nest in holes, they are pure white. In an 
exposed place the snowy shells could easily be seen 
by an egg-hunting Crow or Jay. So we will find 
that the eggs of birds which lay in open nests are 
usually colored. A blue, speckled or spotted egg 
is much more difficult to discover than a gleaming 
white one, and it is therefore believed that the 
shades, tints and markings which make birds' eggs 
so beautiful, serve the useful purpose of concealing 
the eggs from nest-robbers. 

Downy is one of the few birds that makes its 
nest a home as well as a nursery for the rearing of 
his family. The Robin, Jay, Song Sparrow and 
most true nest-builders, abandon their nests after 
their young can fly; but Downy may return to sleep 
in his night after night. Sometimes he makes a hole 
for use only as sleeping quarters during the winter. 

Downy's bill is employed for three quite different 



40 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

purposes. We have seen how it is used to secure 
food and make a home, but in addition to being a 
pick and chisel, it is also a musical instrument ! That 
is to say, it is a part of a musical instrument — the 
drumstick with which Downy beats a resounding 
roll on some resonant limb. 

This "br-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-up" is Downy' s song. A 
man with a pair of drumsticks could not produce a 
better tattoo ; that Downy can do so well with only 
one indicates how rapidly he beats his drum. The 
little drummer seems to enjoy listening to the echo 
of his music. He tests first this limb and then that, 
as though he were looking for one that would pro- 
duce the loudest noise. The result cannot in truth 
be called musical, but like White-breast's mirthless 
laughter, it is one of the pleasing and welcome 
voices of spring. 

No small part of Downy's skill as a carpenter 
and drummer is due to the support he receives from 
his feet and tail. Imagine a Robin clinging to the 
trunk of a tree and trying to use its bill as Downy 
does! Even if it had the same kind of bill it could 
not perch firmly enough to deliver effective blows. 

I once placed a museum specimen of a Wood- 
pecker in Helen Keller's hands and through her com- 
panion asked her to tell me what she could discover 
about its toes. Quickly her sensitive fingers found 



HOME BIRDS 41 

an answer to the question and she replied, "It has 
two front toes and two hind ones." Robin, we know, 
with all other Perching Birds, has three front toes 
and one hind one, an arrangement which permits 
him to grasp small twigs. But Downy does not 
perch, he clings, and his strong, widespreading toes 
give him a firm grip on the bark. 

The last thing we should expect a bird to do is to 
sit on its tail ; but this is exactly what Downy does. 




Downy's Chisel and Climber 

The tips of Robin's tail-feathers are rounded and 
soft, while Downy's are pointed and as stiff as 
bristles. They stick into the bark and make as good 
a brace as the belt a telegraph linesman uses when 
climbing poles. 

We have all seen one of those men with sharp 
spurs strapped to his feet go up a smooth pole. 
When he reaches the place at which he wishes to 
work, he leans back on the strap, which goes around 
the pole and his body, just as Downy leans back on 
his tail-feathers. 



42 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

Soon after the first railroad crossed the continent, 
a famous Indian chief was brought to a station in 
the West to see a locomotive. When the strange 
and terrible monster appeared, it seemed neither to 
interest nor excite him; but when a linesman with 
his spurs on happened to ascend a nearby telegraph 
pole, he exclaimed with wonder that a man could 
climb like a Woodpecker! 

Aside from the Woodpeckers we have only four 
other climbing birds. Two of these, the White- 
breasted and Red-breasted Nuthatches, we have al- 
ready met. The third is the Brown Creeper and the 
fourth the Black and White Warbler. 

The Nuthatches have a plain gray back and wings, 
quite unlike Downy's black and white ones, and they 
climb head downward quite as often as head up- 
ward, while Downy always goes head upward, and 
when he wants to go downward, backs down. 

The Brown Creeper is so much smaller and so 
differently colored that you never could mistake him 
for Downy, while the Black and White Warbler 
does not come to us from the south until the latter 
part of April. By that time we should know Downy 
so well that we can tell him at a glance from the 
Warbler, which is smaller and which goes creeping 
around trunks and limbs instead of hitching some- 
what jerkily upward or forward. 



HOME BIRDS 43 

The male Downy wears a red band across the 
back of his head. In the female this band is white. 
Downy is with us throughout the year and therefore 
belongs in the class of Permanent Residents. 

Hairy Woodpecker 
{Figs. 28, 29) 

The old proverb tells us that "birds of a feather 
flock together," but we shall learn that birds may 
be almost of a feather and still not seek each other's 
society. The only feathers worn by the Downy and 
Hairy Woodpeckers which are not alike are those 
on each side of the tail. The Downy has these 
feathers white with small black bars, but in the Hairy 
they are white without black bars. 

These differences are so slight that it would be 
difficult to distinguish one bird from the other were 
not the Hairy much the larger of the two. 

In spite of their close resemblance, Downy is 
much more often seen with his distant relative, the 
White-breasted Nuthatch, than he is with his cousin, 
the Hairy. The latter is not only less common, but 
he prefers the woods to our gardens ; two good rea- 
sons why he is less often seen than the Downy. 

His voice is like that of the Downy, but is no- 



44 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

ticeably louder, and he does not beat his drum so 
rapidly. 

The two birds build the same kind of nest, but the 
Hairy, who, like the Downy, is a Permanent Resi- 
dent, goes to housekeeping in the latter part of April. 



ENGLISH SPARROW 



AN UNWELCOME GUEST 



(Figs. 30, 5/) 




OW unfortunate it is that our most 
numerous bird should also be our 
least attractive one. Possibly in 
the city, where Sparrow is the only 
bird, we may welcome him, be- 
cause any bird is better than none 
at all. But in the country, where Sparrow crowds 
Chickadee, White-breast, and Downy from the feed- 
ing-station, and drives Bluebird, Wren and Martin 
from the houses we have erected for them, even the 
most tender-hearted bird-lover must regard him as 
a pest. 

It is true that he can no more help being a Spar- 
row than Blue Jay can help being a Blue Jay. But 
Blue Jay has good looks and some traits to com- 
mend him, while it is difficult to find anything to 
admire in a Sparrow. 

His plumage rarely looks bright and clean; his 
voice is harsh and discordant, and he seems to be 

45 



46 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

always using it; he is pugnacious, has no regard for 
the rights of others, and is untidy about his home. 

If he were a native bird we might believe that, 
like flies and mosquitoes and other noxious insects, 
he played some part in Nature's plan the importance 
of which we do not as yet understand. But Sparrow 
is not an American bird. His ancestors were brought 
to this country from Europe in 185 1 and 1852 by 
some well-intentioned but misguided gentleman who 
believed he would rid our trees of caterpillars which 
then infested them. 

Sometimes, it is true, Sparrow does eat insects, 
but, like other Sparrows, he lives chiefly on seeds. 
If he inhabited the fields and fed on the seeds of 
weeds he would be of value to us. But he insists 
on living as near us as he can without actually enter- 
ing our houses. Our feeding-stands, he seems to 
think, are kept supplied for his especial benefit. He 
claims as large a share of the Chickadees' food as 
though his services were as valuable as theirs. 

He builds his nest on our window-sills, behind 
shutters, in gutters, anywhere and everywhere that 
he can find a place for the mass of straw, rags, and 
feathers which make his home; and when we throw 
the rubbish out, he refuses to take the hint and 
promptly replaces it. 

Persistence is indeed one of Sparrow's most prom- 



HOME BIRDS 47 

inent characteristics. To it he owes his success in 
life. Treatment that would drive native birds from 
our homes for the season seems to be regarded by 
him as a cordial invitation to stay. Nothing dis- 
courages him. His habits have won few friends 
among men and apparently none among birds; but 
he is as cheerful as though he were the most loved 
of feathered creatures. 

Sparrow begins to nest in April, and has been 
known to raise as many as six broods in one season. 
At this rate of increase it has been estimated that 
if all should live, the progeny of one pair of Spar- 
rows in ten years would amount to 275,716,983,698 ! 

From four to seven eggs are laid. In color they 
vary from plain white to olive brown, but are usually 
white, finely and evenly marked with olive. 

After the young Sparrows leave the nest they 
gather in flocks which, with other flocks, return 
every night to the same roosting-place. Sometimes 
this is in a densely foliaged tree, at others in ivy 
or other vines. The birds all seem to have much 
to say as they retire, and chatter together in a 
chorus which is fortunately hushed by the approach 
of darkness. 

The Sparrow's worst enemy cannot deny that he 
is persistent, brave, and cheerful. These are surely 
excellent traits and we might well admire them in 



48 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

Sparrow were he not so selfish and quarrelsome; so 
wanting in those tender, gentler qualities which make 
Bluebird so lovable and Chickadee so winning. 

Better a humble role in life than to win success at 
the price Sparrow has paid for it. 



EUROPEAN STARLING 



x^ 


WltyLs' 



OUR LATEST BIRD CITIZEN 

{Figs, 24, 25) 

N the year 1890, the same gentleman 
who was responsible for the intro- 
duction of English Sparrows into 
Central Park, New York City, 
caused sixty Starlings to be released 
there. The following year forty 
more were liberated. 

America evidently agrees with these birds. Dur- 
ing a period when native birds have barely held their 
own and some species have decreased in numbers, 
Starling has multiplied and spread amazingly. The 
one hundred Starlings now have hundreds of thou- 
sands of descendants, and from the boundaries of 
Central Park they have reached New Hampshire 
and Virginia, and even west of the Alleghanies. At 
the present rate of increase it will not be long be- 
fore Starling is one of the most common birds of 
eastern North America. 

Without assistance he may not cross the treeless 
49 



50 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

plains of our interior, for Starling is a tree-loving 
bird. 

Whether Starling will prove a useful citizen we 
do not as yet know. He feeds to some extent upon 
harmless insects, but he is also fond of fruit, while 
his habit of nesting in holes induces him to occupy 
the homes in which Flicker and Bluebird had for- 
merly reared their families. He is with us through- 
out the year and is one of the first of the smaller 
birds to begin housekeeping. When Flicker and 
Bluebird return to the hole they had used the year 
before, we may imagine their surprise to find it in 
the possession of a strange black bird who refuses 
to move out. 

It will be observed that the Starling, like the 
English Sparrow, is evidently lacking in those finer 
traits of character which prompt an unwelcome guest 
quickly to take his departure. Doubtless for this 
reason he has thrived where a more timid, retiring 
bird would have failed. 

Even the most ardent champion of the rights of 
our native birds will admit that Starling has many 
qualities which commend him to us. His plumage is 
bright and glossy, his voice cheerful, and his habits 
interesting. In the summer he wears a shining, 
greenish black costume lightly dotted with creamish. 
In the winter the dots are larger and more numer- 



HOME BIRDS 51 

ous. In the summer, which means also late spring, 
his bill is yellow; in the fall and winter it is brown- 
ish. 

Like our Purple Grackle or Crow Blackbird, Star- 
ling is a walker, and he seeks his food on the ground. 
But the Grackle's tail is noticeably long while Star- 
ling's is conspicuously short, reaching only a little 
beyond his sharply pointed wings. When flying he 
reminds me of a large spear-head. 

When the young Starlings leave the nest they are 
dull gray in color, but they soon lose this plumage 
and acquire one similar to that worn by their parents 
in winter. 

Starling's most characteristic note is a high, clear, 
long-drawn whistle. It is so much like the one we 
sometimes use when we wish to attract another per- 
son's attention that when we hear Starling's call we 
cannot be sure at first whether we are listening to 
a bird or a man. 

This whistle also forms part of Starling's song, 
a kind of choking, gasping, guttural soliloquy, which 
can be heard only when you are quite near the singer. 
Occasionally one hears him utter a plaintive call so 
exactly like that of the Wood Pewee that for some 
years I believed he was imitating that bird; but I 
have since concluded that the notes are his own. 

Starling's four to six pale blue eggs are laid in 



52 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

April, and by May 15 we may hear the grating call 
of the young Starlings as they follow their parents 
about on the lawn and beg for food. The birds now 
begin to gather in flocks which, by August, may con- 
tain several thousand individuals. 

At this season one may see the wonderful aerial 
evolutions for which Starlings are famous. One 
might believe that they had been called together for 
fall maneuvers. They swing through the air chang- 
ing from one formation to another with a precision 
which would excite the envy of the best trained sol- 
dier. Now they look like a dark round cloud, then 
they lengthen out into the shape of a huge balloon, 
then in a second they whirl as one bird and stream 
away like a banner of smoke. 

In the fall I always welcome the sight of these 
birds drilling in the air. But before the Starlings 
came, the appearance of a flock of black birds in 
late February or early March was an unmistakable 
sign of the coming of spring. They might be Red- 
wings, or they might be Grackles; but they surely 
were the advance guard of the great army which was 
marching up from the South. But now, who knows, 
they may be only Starlings ! 



BLUE JAY 



A BIRD OF CHARACTER 




{Fig. 20) 

MAN who possessed Blue Jay's 
character and voice would be far 
from popular. But we must not 
judge birds by the standards we 
apply to men. 
If Blue Jay's call is a loud, 
harsh "jay-jay," we must remember that he is speak- 
ing the language of Jays. If his manner seems over- 
bearing and if he sometimes robs smaller birds of 
their eggs, we must not forget that the only rules 
of conduct he knows are those of other Blue Jays. 
While, therefore, we may not altogether approve of 
the ways of Jays, we should not blame Blue Jay for 
adopting them. 

We cannot make friends with Blue Jay as we do 
with Chickadee, but as I look back over my long 
acquaintance with him and his kind, I discover what 
I think is an improvement in his habits. When first 
I met him he was a bird of the woods and distant 

53 



54 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

hedgerows; now he lives in our gardens and builds 
his home near ours. 

Blue Jay is a shrewd, wise bird, and I believe that 
he has taken up his abode in towns and villages not 
because he is fond of our society, but because he is 
safer there from attack by his natural enemies. 

However this may be, we may credit him with 
having learned to trust us even if he does not care 
for us. Perhaps some day he may become as friendly 
as his cousin, the Florida Jay. 

No one will deny that, so far as appearance goes, 
Blue Jay is a striking addition to our list of bird 
callers. His size, beautiful costume of blue and 
white, jaunty crest, and gay, dashing actions always 
command our attention and admiration. He may 
rifle a nest or two, he may visit our feeding-stand 
more as a robber than a guest, he may awaken us 
at an early hour by his loud cries, but he is such 
an attractive bit of wild life, that, knowing he 
has had only the training of Jays, we overlook his 
faults. 

As we become more familiar with Blue Jay's 
habits, we shall find that he has much to commend 
him beside his fine feathers. His vocabulary is by no 
means restricted to the loud calls which have given 
him his name. He has also a variety of whistles, 
some of which are really pleasing. When he is with 



HOME BIRDS SS 

other Jays he utters a number of low notes so con- 
versational in character that one can easily imagine 
the birds are talking together. Perhaps they are. 

Added to these vocal gifts, Blue Jay is an excel- 
lent mimic. He can imitate the calls of the Red- 
shouldered, Red-tailed, and Sparrow Hawks so 
closely that I imagine not even those birds them- 
selves can detect the difference between his notes and 
their own. But when I hear the call of a Hawk 
quickly followed by Blue Jay's familiar notes, I con- 
clude that he is the author of both. 

Blue Jay's unusual intelligence is well shown dur- 
ing the nesting season. Every one who has been 
fortunate enough to live in the country knows how 
easy it is to find the nest of a Robin, Catbird, or 
Wood Thrush. The nearer we approach it the more 
loudly do the birds protest. Only as we retreat do 
they become less excited. It is just as though they 
called u hot" and "cold," and if we follow the clue 
their voices give, we soon discover the secret they 
really wish to conceal. 

But the Blue Jay gives you no hint to the where- 
abouts of his home. During the nesting season his 
voice is rarely heard. If you should chance to be 
near his nest not a word will he say about it. Prob- 
ably you will not see him in the vicinity. Even when 
by chance or very careful searching you find his 



S6 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

well-made dwelling, he still will make no outcry. 

You may think him cowardly and point to the 
bravery of the Robin and other birds in defending 
their haunts. But Blue Jay is not a coward; he 
merely seems to have some of that discretion which 
is the better part of valor. Screaming and making 
a great fuss would not help matters and might draw 
a crowd, so he keeps perfectly still and watches you 
from a nearby hiding place. 

Perhaps with that confidence in mankind which 
has led him to live near us, he may believe that you 
will not take his eggs or harm his offspring. But 
let a Crow or Owl appear and he will give you a 
convincing exhibition of his courage. 

I once watched a Blue Jay's nest containing five 
young birds for over an hour before I saw anything 
of the parents, though they must have seen me. 
Then they came only for a moment and were gone 
again. But when I placed a stuffed Screech Owl 
near their nest, they came to the defense of their 
young as fast as their wings could bring them, and 
attacked the poor little Owl with such force that at 
the first blow he was knocked completely off his 
perch. 

About May first Blue Jay builds a large, finely 
woven nest of twigs, lined with rootlets, and places 



HOME BIRDS 57 

it in a tree usually from ten to twenty feet above the 
ground. 

The four or five eggs are pale olive-green or 
brownish ashy, rather thickly spotted with cinnamon- 
brown. The nestling plumage of the young Jays is 
blue and white like that of their parents. 



CARDINAL 



A BIT OF FLAME IN FEATHERS 




O closely do we associate brightly 
colored birds with the tropics that 
the Cardinal seems like a visitor 
from the Equator. At least we 
expect him to pass the winter there, 
but all seasons seem alike to him, 
and he appears to feel as much at home in a snow- 
storm as in some tangled thicket richly clad with 
foliage. Brilliant as he is against a white back- 
ground, he is even more fiery in summer, the gray- 
ish tips to his feathers, which slightly veil his plum- 
age in winter, having at that season worn off. But 
at all times he has a surprising way of disappearing 
when one would think there was not enough cover 
near to conceal his gleaming coat. Then, only his 
sharp, small chip, tells us in what bush he is hiding. 
It is when he is singing that the Cardinal can be 
seen to best advantage. Then he often seeks an ex- 
posed perch where his message will be borne to the 
four points of the compass, and head erect, crest 
raised, calls in his rich, sympathetic voice "De-ar, 

58 



HOME BIRDS 



59 



de-ar, de-ar, come he-ar, he-re-he-re; quick-quick, 
hurry-hurry-hurry." 

Before long his appeal is answered by an olive- 
brown mate. Unlike most birds of her sex she, too, 




Cardinal 



is a vocalist, and can respond to the ardent serenade 
of her lover with a song of her own, though it is by 
no means so loud as his. 

If all goes well with this musical wooing, a nest 
of twigs, rootlets and bits of grass will soon be built 
in the nearby undergrowth, and in due time it will 
contain three or four bluish white eggs, spotted and 
speckled with brown. Cardinals are rarely seen 



60 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

north of New York City. They are not migratory 
and from that point southward are found through- 
out the year. Except for the black on his face and 
chin, the male is bright red; the female is olive- 
brown above, paler below, with the wings and tail 
tinged with red. Her crest is not so large as that 
of the male, but when erect is conspicuous. 



FLICKER 




A CANDIDATE FOR NATIONAL HONORS 
{Figs. 21, 22) 

F I were asked to vote for a national 
bird I should cast my ballot for the 
Flicker. He is a real citizen of 
North America. His home extends 
from Central America to Canada. 
Throughout the greater part of 
this wide territory he may be found every month in 
the year, though north of the latitude of New York 
he is not common during the winter. 

The Flicker would have my vote not only because 
he inhabits the entire nation, and can therefore repre- 
sent every state in it, but in character, habits, and 
appearance he is clearly a credit to the country. 

He is alert, industrious, progressive and success- 
ful. Some members of his family (for example, the 
Ivory-billed Woodpecker and Pileated Woodpecker) 
have been unable to adapt themselves to the changes 
which have been made in their haunts by man. When 

the forests go they also disappear. 

61 



62 OUR WINTER BrRDS 

This is not the Flicker's fate. When the woods 
are felled, he comes to live in our orchards and 
gardens. If the pruner and forester leave him no 
dead limbs to nest in, he drills a hole in a fence- 
post or accepts the boxes we offer him. 

He wins his way peaceably if he can, but will 
defend his rights courageously if necessary. That 
new bird settler, the Starling, often tries to take 
possession of Flicker's home, and is doubtless sur- 
prised to find that although when undisturbed Flicker 
minds his own affairs, when aroused he is a foe to 
be feared. 

Flicker owes his success to his ability to change 
his diet as well as his nesting site. If you compare 
his bill with that of our other Woodpeckers you will 
observe that it is longer, more slender and slightly 
curved. His tongue, also, is unlike that of the 
Downy or Hairy Woodpecker, the tip being prac- 
tically without barbs. 

Although more like a probe than a chisel, Flicker 
can make the chips fly from an old log or dead limb 
when grub-hunting, but his favorite fare is ants. 
These he usually captures at their homes and this 
explains why we so often see Flicker on the ground. 
In the distance we might think he was a Robin tug- 
ging at a worm, as he rapidly probes an ant-hill. 
The long tongue, covered with a gummy secretion, 



HOME BIRDS 63 

is thrust out, the ants stick to it and are caught in 
such numbers that as many as 3,000 have been found 
in the stomach of one Flicker. 

To his fare of grubs and ants Flicker adds fruit. 
The berries of the Virginia creeper and sour gum 
are among his favorites and he is also fond of wild 
cherries, pokeberries, berries of the dogwood, moun- 
tain ash and many others. Flicker therefore draws 
his supply of food from the ground and from the 
trunks of trees, as well as from the fruit they bear. 

In appearance Flicker, to my mind, is one of the 
most attractive of our birds. His costume contains 
many beautiful colors combined in a striking but 
pleasing variety of patterns. The black crescent on 
his breast and scarlet band on his nape, the flash, 
or "flicker" of yellow revealed in his wings when he 
flies; the large white spot that shows so conspicu- 
ously on his lower back when he goes bounding 
away from us in his graceful, undulating flight, all 
distinguish him from other birds and, together with 
his habits and notes, have won him many names. 
Among over one hundred others, he has been called 
Crescent-Bird, Golden-winged Woodpecker, and 
Cotton Rump; High-hole, Yarrup and Yellowham- 
mer. These all show that Flicker is known far and 
wide, as any national bird should be. In fact, 
Flicker seems to possess in a high degree all but one 



64 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

of the attributes which the chosen bird of the nation 
should have. He is a native of every state, he is 
adaptive and intelligent; peaceful but brave; use- 
ful and beautiful, but he cannot sing; and song is so 
preeminently the divine gift of birds, that a bird 
which lacks it does not seem to be quite perfect. 

Flicker, it is true, has a greater repertoire than 
most members of his family. He is an accomplished 
drummer and sometimes beats his tattoo on a tin roof 
or gutter with more enthusiasm than consideration 
for the ears of would-be sleepers in adjoining bed- 
rooms. 

He announces his presence with a loud, strongly 
accented "Kee-yer" and his many times repeated 
"cuh-cuh-cuh" is as much a part of spring as the 
piping of frogs. The "kwee-chu, kwee-chu" with 
which he accompanies his odd courtship poses, and 
the chuckle he utters when he springs up before us 
cannot well be called songs, but at least they are one 
of the most characteristic of Nature's voices, with 
which, in time, we establish associations that make 
them inexpressibly dear to us. 

Flicker and his mate go house-hunting early in 
April, but the eggs are not laid for a month later. 
They number five to nine, and like those of all .Wood- 
peckers, are spotless white. The young Flickers are 
born naked and do not get their first suit of feathers, 



HOME BIRDS 6$ 

which is much like that of their parents, until they 
are a week or more old. They are noisy little chaps 
and if you tap the tree trunk or limb in which they 
are living, they utter in chorus a loud buzzing pro- 
test. They climb to the nest-hole to receive their 
food, which the parents give them by a process known 
as regurgitation. In this act the parent thrusts its 
bill far down the throat of the young and brings up 
from the crop, or regurgitates, partly digested food. 
On this fare the young grow so rapidly that they 
leave the nest when they are about four weeks old. 
Then for some time they remain under their parents' 
care, learning the ways of their kind. 



SONG SPARROW 



"a little brown bird" 



{Fig-- 34) 




ATE in February, when in some 
sheltered, sun-warmed nook, I hear 
a Song Sparrow sing, I know that 
spring is near because u a little bird 
has told me so." The ground may- 
still be white with snow, the bare 
branches show no sign of life. Not even the pussy 
willows have "crept out along each bough," nor have 
the frogs piped a single note. But there is the signal, 
"Spring, Spring, Spring, sunny days are here." 

It is said in such a sweet, unpretentious voice and 
by such a modest, unassuming little bird, that one 
cannot at first believe Nature would send so great a 
message in such a simple way. 

When the Cranes trumpet it to the four winds and 
the Geese call it through the sky, we know it is true; 
but long before they have spread the news so that 

any one may hear, those whose ears are attuned to 

66 



HOME BIRDS 67 

Nature's voices, loud or low, have heard it from the 
Song Sparrow. 

Watch him as he sings the glad tidings. He seems 
to realize their importance and, with head thrown 
back and body quivering, puts his whole soul into 
the delivery of his message. 

Only the born bird-lover may want to know all 
the birds, but every one should know the Song Spar- 
row. The Warblers, Vireos and Flycatchers each 
bear a message for him who can interpret it, but 
any one can understand the Song Sparrow. He 
speaks a common language. In February, when he 
sings the welcome news of the birth of a new year, 
I half expect to see him clad in cloth of gold, but 
the badge of black he wears upon his breast is his 
only distinctive mark. For the rest, he is just a 
little brown Sparrow streaked below as well as above. 

Although his song varies so greatly that one rarely 
hears two Song Sparrows sing exactly alike and even 
the same bird may sing in half a dozen different 
ways, there is a quality about his voice which always 
enables one to identify it. The three opening notes 
are usually alike and, however great may be the 
variations that follow, they have the unmistakable 
tone of the Song Sparrow's voice. 

Equally characteristic is Song Sparrow's call-note, 
a questioning "chimp" or "trink" which, once you 



68 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

have learned it, is as good an identification mark as 
though the bird were to speak its own name. 

Young Song Sparrows sing a rambling kind of 
low song, which seems to have neither beginning nor 
end, and bears no resemblance to the strongly ac- 
cented performance of their parent. 

Song Sparrow is not a bird of the fields. He 
never lives far from bushes into which, with a "pump- 
ing" motion of the tail, he generally flies when 
alarmed. He prefers the vicinity of water, and an 
alder-bordered brook with marsh marigolds, like 
patches of sunlight on the fresh green of the neigh- 
boring meadows, makes his ideal home. 

Though far less abundant in winter than in sum- 
mer, Song Sparrow is with us throughout the year. 
He opens the season of song in February and closes 
it in November. Late in April he and his mate 
build on or near the ground a nest of coarse grasses, 
rootlets, dead leaves and strips of bark and line it 
with fine grasses. The four or five eggs are whitish 
with numerous reddish-brown markings. 



GOLDFINCH 




THE WILD CANARY 

(%*. 35, 36) 

OLDFINCH he may be during the 
summer, but when he replaces his 
gay black and yellow costume with 
one of olive-brown he should 
change his name also if he expects 
to be recognized by it. His nature 
he never changes, and summer or winter he is always 
the same sweet-voiced, cheerful fellow, who calls his 
gay u per-chic-o-ree, per-chic-o-ree" as he goes bound- 
ing through the air. 

We may not receive a call from Goldfinch at our 
feeding shelf, but if we will leave a few old seed- 
filled sunflowers hanging on their stalks in the gar- 
den, he and his merry troop will surely visit them. 
In April they frequent the maples to take toll of the 
fast swelling buds. Then the very trees seem musi- 
cal. One can well imagine that every bud is bursting 
with song as the birds chatter happily while feeding. 

The males are now changing the olive winter plum- 

69 



7 o OUR WINTER BIRDS 

age for their gold and black wedding dress and will 
soon be true Goldfinches. It is this costume, to- 
gether with their canary-like song, that has won for 
them the name of "Wild Canary." They are also 
called "Thistle-bird" from their fondness for the 
seeds of that plant. 

The Goldfinch seems loth to give up his care-free, 
wandering life for the duties of housekeeping, and, 
like the Waxwing, roves about the country with a 



•>$5- 






The Goldfinch Loops the Loop 



troop of his companions long after most birds have 
families to provide for. 

Perhaps he believes in a prolonged courtship for, 
although, as we have seen, he dons his nuptiai cos- 
tume in April, it is not until late June or even July 
that he and his mate build a home. This they place 
in bushes or more often trees, and make of fine 
grasses, strips of grass and moss, padding it as 
warmly with soft plant-down as though it were to 
be used in mid-winter rather than mid-summer. The 
three to six eggs are pale bluish white. 



JUNCO 



A WELCOME WINTER VISITOR 




C%. 43) 

EPTEMBER, with its army of birds 
marching steadily southward, is an 
interesting but sorrowful month 
for the bird-lover. Birds which 
were rare or not seen at all when 
the migrating army passed us in the 
spring, may now often be found in numbers. This, 
too, is the season when young and inexperienced 
birds not infrequently lose their way; and we are, 
therefore, on the lookout for these "accidental vis- 
itants, " as the ornithologist calls them. Perhaps 
we may see some bird which has never been found in 
our part of the country before ! 

While we therefore have keen enjoyment and ex- 
citement in watching the host of Warblers, Vireos, 
Flycatchers, Thrushes and others go by, we are sad- 
dened by the thought that for the succeeding six or 
seven months our woods will not know them. 

Soon the leaves will come fluttering gently down- 

7i 



72 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

ward for a short time to carpet the wood-path with 
bright colors, and the birds, deprived of their shel- 
ter and food, will seek a home where frost is un- 
known. 

How pleasant it is then to know that among all 
these travelers there are some which have come to 
pass the winter with us. Of these ''Winter Visitants," 
Junco is the most welcome. I first hear his familiar, 
kissing "tsip" about the end of the month, and there, 
sure enough, on the ground near a group of ever- 
greens, is a company of the little gray-coated, white- 
vested birds, which have just arrived from their 
summer home in Canada. 

As I approach, with a twittering note, they fly 
into the lower branches of the neighboring trees, 
showing as they go their white outer tail-feathers, 
the banner they always spread in flight. They call 
a contented "true-true-true" to me as I pass, and I 
answer, "Yes, surely it is 'true' that you have come 
back to cheer us during the winter." 

A little later in the season, Junco comes to our 
dooryard and, until he leaves for the north the 
following April, he is one of the most frequent 
guests at our feeding-stands. Not long before he 
goes, we may hear the simple little trill with which 
Junco greets the coming of spring. 



BROWN CREEPER 




THE BARK BIRD 

(*V- 59) 

HE Brown Creeper might well be 
called the Bark Bird. He spends 
his life on the bark, builds his nest 
behind a slab of loose bark, and 
looks himself like a piece of bark. 
He might be a feathered mouse, so 
truly does he creep up the tree-trunks, winding his 
way around, and pausing only long enough to pick 
out an insect's egg here and there. When he reaches 
the lower limbs he is apt to drop lightly down to 
the base of a neighboring tree and the moment his 
toes grasp the bark he begins his upward journey. 
What a preoccupied, near-sighted manner he has! 
How intent he seems upon his search! One never 
sees him resting. He reminds me of a character 
in mythology named Sisyphus. This poor man was 
condemned to push a great stone up a hill; he toiled 
faithfully, but always, just before he reached the 
top, the stone slipped from his grasp and rolled 

73 



74 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

back to the bottom. Then he had to begin again. 

So the Creeper appears constantly to be working 
at some task he never can finish. He is persistent 
and faithful, but fate seems against him. He spends 
his life trying to climb trees, but when he reaches the 
first branches he slips and falls and has to start from 
the bottom again. 

This view of his place in nature would doubtless 




The Brown Creeper's Probe-like Bill and Pointed Stiffened 
Tail-feathers 

surprise the Creeper. His measure of success 
would probably be found in the numbers of insects, 
eggs and larvae his patient gleaning discovers; and 
when we see how well his stiff tail and curved bill fit 
him to pursue his special calling, we cannot doubt 
that he is one of the most valuable guardians of the 
bark. 

The Creeper is as uncommunicative as he is dili- 
gent. A faint, thin, high screeping is the only note 
we shall hear from him in winter, but in late 
spring he has a short song of four notes which 



HOME BIRDS 75 

has been described as exquisitely pure and tender. 
From northern New England northward is the 
Creeper's summer home. He leaves it late in Sep- 
tember to start south with Junco, Red-breasted Nut- 
hatch, and others to winter from New England to 
the Gulf. 



WHITE-THROATED SPARROW 




A FEATHERED FIFER 

{Figs. 45, 46) 

HEN we can address a foreigner 
in his own language, we at once 
establish more friendly relations 
with him than it would be possible 
to create if we had to talk with 
the aid of an interpreter. 
So I always feel better acquainted with those birds 
whose language I can speak than with those whose 
tongues I cannot master. It is true that I rarely 
know the meaning of what I say, but the birds 
seem to understand; at least, they reply, and that 
makes a bond of sympathy between us. 

Any one who can whistle can acquire White- 
throat's language. His voice is clear, high, and 
sweet, and the intervals between his notes so 
closely agree with those of our musical scale, that 
his songs can be written on our staff. Here 

are two which I often hear. There are many 

76 



HOME BIRDS 77 

variations of this 
theme, but the 
rhythm is always 
the same. The 



E?=fE 




-4- 


or 

— 0-0-0 — 0-0-0 — 1 
— 1 — ! — 1 — ! — ! — F — F 


— j — | 



words "Old Sam Two 0F white-throat's Songs 

Pea-body, Pea- 
body, Pea-body" are sometimes used to express it 
and, for this reason, White-throat has also been 
called Peabody Bird. 

White-throat comes from his summer home in 
northern New England and Canada with Junco, 
late in September. In sheltered places where food is 
available, he and others of his kind will remain 
with us all winter. 

Those that go as far south as Florida will visit us 
again in April and May. White-throat is therefore 
most numerous during his fall and spring migrations. 
For a few days after his arrival, in late September, 
White-throat seems to be resting from his journey 
and remains quietly with his traveling companions 
in some brushy place in the woods. But when I 
whistle a few words to them in the language of 
White-throats, they all appear much interested and 
hop up to some look-out perch curious to see who 
is speaking. 

Perhaps some bird will reply in a rather weak, 
shaky voice a little off the key. Even mature birds 



78 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

never sing as well in the fall as they do in the spring. 
Most birds, indeed, sing little, if at all, at this sea- 
son. Probably many of the songs we hear in the 
fall are those of young birds trying their voices. 

We all know that a young rooster's first attempts 
at crowing are ridiculously unlike his father's re- 
sounding "cock-a-doodle-doo." The song of no 
young bird is so laughable as a cockerel's half- 
formed crow, but it may be quite different from that 
of his parent. 

White-throat's notes, however, are unmistakably 
those of his kind. He seems to improve rapidly and 
while his song is not so loud, clear, and ringing as 
it will be the following spring, it is nevertheless a 
welcome addition to nature's small autumnal chorus. 

White-throat's call-note, "chink," has been well- 
likened to the sound produced by a marble-cutter's 
chisel. When you are near the bushes to which 
White-throat and his companions are coming for the 
night, you will hear the birds calling to one another, 
and can easily imagine that a dozen or more work- 
men are busily plying the chisel to finish the day's 
task. 

We shall have no difficulty in recognizing the 
older White-throats by the throat-patch which gives 
them their name, together with a faint yellow spot 
at the front end of the whitish line that passes over 



HOME BIRDS 79 

the eye. In young birds (No. 46) these markings 
are not so well-defined; but when we see a Sparrow 
that calls a sharp "chink" and sings "Pea-body-pea- 
body-peabody," we may be sure that it can be no 
other than White-throat. 



PURPLE FINCH 



A WANDERING MINSTREL 

{Figs. 32, 33) 



— ijHEN a company of Purple Finches 
11 KLtiK patronize our feeding-stand, our 
M/iulK/ J garden seems bright with color and 
W ™m\r cheery with song. It is as though 
all the English Sparrows had been 
■"■* dipped in red ink or streaked be- 
low with dusky and taught to sing. 

In some parts of the west and southward into 
Mexico, the House Finch or Linnet, a near relative 
of our Purple Finch, seems as much at home in the 
heart of large cities as though he were an English 
Sparrow. It is most surprising to see a brightly col- 
ored male perched on a telegraph wire above a 
street thronged with vehicles, singing his flowing, 
musical warble seemingly with as much pleasure as 
though he were in a blooming apple orchard. 

Unfortunately our eastern bird is not so fond of 
the haunts of men. Usually he is but a voice in the 

air. We hear his flight-call, "Creak, creak," as he 

8o 



HOME BIRDS 81 

passes over. Perhaps he may pause for a moment 
on the topmost branch of some tall tree and sing 
a bar or two; but soon he is off again — "Creak, 
creak." 

Just where he goes one cannot say. Nor can one 
tell when he will come. He is like a restless traveler, 
ever on the go and not content to stay long at one 
place. 

About the middle of May he gives up his roving 
life for a time and settles down to housekeeping. 
If we have evergreens on our lawn, he may honor 
us by accepting one as a site for his nest of twigs, 
grasses and rootlets with its lining of fine hairs. 

The four to six eggs are blue, spotted about the 
larger end with blackish. 

All the young birds, whether male or female, will 
wear the streaked sparrow-like plumage of their 
mother; but the whitish line over the eye will always 
distinguish them from any of our real sparrows. 
The young male wears his streaked costume through 
the winter and the following spring dons the rosy 
dress of the mature bird. 



CEDAR WAXWING 



A BIRD OF GENTLE WAYS 






{Fig. 40) 

F the Waxwing had a voice to match 
his dress and disposition, he would 
be among the most famous of 
birds. His plumage lacks the bril- 
liancy of Tanager or Humming- 
bird, but its exquisite shading, trim 
elegance, tasteful and unusual adornments make it 
even more pleasing to the eye than one of gayer 
hues. Furthermore, a Waxwing's clothes, so to 
speak, always fit him and he wears them with an air 
of refinement which adds to the dignity of his ap- 
pearance. His distinction of manner is increased 
by a crest which he uses as expressively as a horse 
does its ears. 

The Waxwing's habits are in keeping with his 
appearance. He is a quiet, gentle, well-mannered 
bird, and is apparently always on excellent terms 
with others of his kind. Doubtless for this reason 

Waxwings always show a fondness for one another's 

82 



HOME BIRDS 83 

society. One rarely sees a single Waxwing. Usually 
they are found in small flocks, the members of which 
associate so closely that they seem to act as one 
bird. When they alight in a tree they perch close- 
ly together, often sitting in a row on the same 
limb, like Parrakeets. When they leave, they take 
wing at the same moment and fly in close forma- 
tion. 

Perhaps it may be their attachment for one an- 
other that delays their pairing and establishment 
here and there as separate families. As a rule, they 
do not begin to nest before the middle of June, a 
date when most of our birds have families on the 
wing. Only the Goldfinch nests later. 

While a fondness for cedar berries is responsible 
for the Waxwing' s first name, he shows no prefer- 
ence for cedar trees as a home site. Indeed, the 
large, well-formed nest is usually placed in a shade 
or fruit tree often on our lawn. 

The eggs, which number from three to five, are 
quite unlike those of any other of our birds. Their 
ground color is pale bluish gray, which is thickly 
and distinctly spotted with black and dark brown. 

The Waxwing has no real song and his faint, 
lisping calls and string of beady notes are probably 
uttered by both sexes. Nor does the male differ 
from the female in color. Not every individual, it 



8 4 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

is true, has the little red sealing-wax-like tips on the 
inner wing-feathers (and rarely tail), which give 
the bird its last name. Probably those which lack 
this peculiar and distinctive mark are not wholly 
adult. It is rarely worn by nestling birds, which 
further differ from their parents in being lighter col- 
ored and strongly streaked below. 

The Waxwing does not restrict his diet to the 
berry of the tree after which he is named. He seems 
fond of all wild fruits and was not slow to add culti- 
vated ones to his bill-of-fare. He is also fond of 
various kinds of insects, particularly the canker- 
worm so destructive to our elm trees, and no one 
who knows of his valiant service as a protector of 
our shade trees will deny his well-earned right to a 
share of our cherries and strawberries. 

Toward midsummer he becomes one of thj most 
expert and graceful of flycatchers and from a well- 
chosen perch swings out into the air or darts upward 
after passing insects. 

Notwithstanding his gentle, quiet ways, the Wax- 
wing is an adventurous and erratic traveler. He 
follows no regular routes and time-tables such as 
guide the journeys of the Warblers and most mi- 
grants, but apparently wanders wherever the mood 
prompts him to go. Wholly absent some winters, 



HOME BIRDS '85 

he may be present others. Here to-day, he has 
gone to-morrow. But doubtless he has his own rea- 
sons for coming and going, and it is pretty safe for 
us to believe that among them the question of food 
takes first place. 



■•V 



GOLDEN-CROWNED KINGLET 



OUR SMALLEST WINTER GUEST 




(Figs. 62, 63) 

E think it wonderful that the Hum- 
mingbird, our smallest bird, should 
go as far south as Central 
America to spend the winter. But 
is it not equally wonderful that 
the Golden-crowned Kinglet, next 
smallest in size, should brave the winters of New 
England? 

He has a body no larger than the end of your 
thumb, but it is covered with so thick a coat of 
feathers that Golden-crown is doubtless warm and 
comfortable sleeeping in the depths of an evergreen 
even when the thermometer registers below zero. 

Golden-crown belongs to a small but hardy group 
of birds, all of which live in the more northern 
parts of the world. Golden-crown himself is not 
found in summer south of northern New England, 
except on the higher, colder parts of the Alleghe- 
nies, on which he is found as far south as North 

Carolina. 

86 



HOME BIRDS 87 

It is not only Golden-crown's endurance which 
makes him remarkable, but also the size of his 
family. Although the smallest of our Song or 
Perching Birds, he lays, as a rule, a larger number 
of eggs than any other; as many as ten are com- 
monly found in the great purse of green moss which 
this active little bird builds for a nest in an ever- 
green tree sometimes as high as sixty feet above the 
ground. 

Golden-crown comes to us from the north late in 
September. A few birds remain during the winter, 
traveling in small companies which are often asso- 
ciated with Chickadees. They are restless, active 
little explorers of twig and bud, about which they 
flutter in their never-ending search for insects' eggs 
and larvae. 

Their high, thin "ti-ti-ti" may be heard only by 
attentive ears. Hoffman writes: "In March and 
April the males continue the lisping note, put more 
and more power into it, and then by a descending 
trill fall, as it were, from the height to which they 
have scaled — this is the song of the Golden-crowned 
Kinglet." 

Both sexes wear a crown. That of the male is 
flaming orange bordered by yellow and black. That 
of the female — shall we call her Queenlet? — is only 
yellow with a black border. 



SCREECH OWL 




THE FEATHERED CAT 

{Figs. 13, 14) 

OOKING from a second-story win- 
dow, in the dusk of a winter eve- 
ning, I saw on the nearby ridge of 
the piazza roof what, at first 
glance, seemed to be a queer, little 
hunched up feathered cat! Its 
erect ears pointed slightly outward, its big yellow 
eyes glared at me and, with a sharp turn of the head, 
followed every move I made. Slowly I raised the 
window for a nearer view when, behold! my 
feathered "cat" spread its wings and flew noise- 
lessly into the neighboring spruces. One never for- 
gets one's first real meeting, face to face, with an 
Owl. 

Probably there are but few homes in town or 
country which have not a pair of Screech Owls living 
near them. Only a short time ago while walking at 
night-fall to my home in a large city, I saw one fly 
a short distance down the street and alight in a 

88 



HOME BIRDS 89 

leafless maple. I wondered whether any one else 
knew that we had this "original inhabitant" still 
abiding with us. 

A pair of Screech Owls once lived directly over 
my study in a gable which they entered through a 
round hole placed just below the peak. This formed 
their doorway, and night after night it was occupied 
by one of the birds, who, with half-closed eyes, 
looked out sleepily over the gradually darkening 
world. 

I could always tell when he sailed silently out in 
search of his breakfast, by the commotion he aroused 
among other birds. Robins, in a frenzy of fear, 
shrieked their sharp alarm note, while hesitating 
actually to attack the unoffending cause of their ex- 
citement; Wood Thrushes uttered their clear "pit- 
pit" uneasily; Catbirds protested, and the Red-eyed 
Vireos complained nasally. 

Often I have gone out to see what all the noise 
was about, usually to find the Owl maintaining a 
dignified silence, or snapping his bill defiantly in the 
depths of a tree, and wanting only to be left in peace. 
Or, braving the open, he would leave the shelter of 
the foliage to drop down on the lawn for a grub or 
even to pick from a tree trunk a cicada just emerg- 
ing from its shell-like case. 

As the light failed the mob dispersed, and relieved 



9 o OUR WINTER BIRDS 

of their unwelcome attention the little Owl raised 
his quavering voice in song; a long-drawn, high, 
tremulous whistle, on a descending scale, sometimes 
followed by a mellow refrain. It is far from a 
"screech," this plaintive note; and while it can 
scarcely be called cheerful, it harmonizes well with 
the quiet of the evening and the spirit of the hour. 

Heard by persons to whom the little Owl is a 
stranger and who have no sympathy with him and 
his ways, this somewhat mournful call is considered 
a note of ill-omen; but when we learn that in addi- 
tion to destroying a large number of harmful grubs 
and insects, Screech Owls are also expert mousers, 
we realize that we may consider ourselves fortunate 
rather than unlucky to have them make their home 
near ours. 

About the middle of April the Screech Owl lays 
from four to six white eggs in a hollow tree, or pos- 
sibly in a nesting box or log we have erected for the 
use of Flickers. The birds go about their family 
duties so quietly that we may not know of their 
presence near us until they "bring out" their family. 
Then, suddenly, the place seems to be overflowing 
with Screech Owls. They sail from tree to tree and 
from the branches overhead look down upon us 
after the curiously solemn manner of Owls. The 
young Owls still wear their nestling costume of soft 



HOME BIRDS 91 

downy feathers lightly barred with blackish and 
quite unlike the streaked costume of their parents. 
Some of the latter are gray while others are red* 
dish brown, but this variation in color (see Figs. 13 
and 14) has no relation to either age, sex, or season, 
and its cause has never been learned. 

Whether gray or reddish we may always know 
the Screech Owl by its small size in connection with 
the conspicuous feather-tufts which are commonly 
called "ears." 



FIELD BIRDS 



Ill 

FIELD BIRDS 




LTHOUGH their power of flight 
enables birds to move quickly and 
easily from place to place and, if 
need be, to travel thousands of 
miles, many species in their wander- 
ings are restricted to a certain kind 
of territory. Thus, while Horned Larks and Snow 
Buntings might enter the woods, we should no more 
expect to find them there than we should daisies or 
clover. On the other hand, the Ruffed Grouse and 
Winter Wren are as closely confined to the forests 
as the partridge berry or moccasin flower. Such 
birds and flowers are termed specialized; that is, they 
have become so closely adapted to life under certain 
special conditions that they can live only where these 
conditions are present. 

Birds which are not so closely governed in the 
choice of haunts and food, are spoken of as general- 
ized in habit. The Crow, for example, is a general- 
ized bird. He is found in both fields and woods, 
on the seashore and in the mountains. He usually 

95 



96 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

feeds on the ground, but he may rob nests or take 
frozen apples from the trees, and his bill-of-fare 
varies as widely as the difference between eggs and 
apples indicates. 

Generalized species are called adaptive, because 
they can adapt themselves to life almost anywhere. 
As a rule they are the successful species and are far 
more abundant than those which require a particular 
kind of haunt, nesting-site and food. Just as a man 
who can "get on well" anywhere is much more apt to 
succeed than one who is unhappy and uncomfortable 
unless he can have things exactly as he wants them. 

The secret of the English Sparrow's success is 
his generalized habits. He seems equally at home 
in the city or country, on cobble streets, or in the 
barnyard; he eats almost anything and appears to 
relish it, and any place that will hold his nesting 
material suits him for a home. 

In attempting to classify birds by their haunts we 
have no difficulty with the specialized species, but it 
is not so easy to place the generalized species where 
they belong. Of the birds which we include in this 
section, the Crow, Goldfinch, Siskin, Redpoll and 
Bob-white may be found at times in the woods as 
well as in the fields, but since we will doubtless see 
them more frequently in the open, we may class them 
as Field Birds. 



THE CROW 




A BIRD WITH FEW FRIENDS 

{Fig. ig) 

Y his enemies the Crow's character 
is painted as black as his plumage, 
but before we condemn him I 
should like to hear the verdict of a 
jury of Crows. We, for example, 
would not like to have the buf- 
falo or Wild Pigeon or Carolina Paroquet, or any 
other animal that man has exterminated, paint our 
character. Even the house fly and mosquito could 
prove that we were heartless murderers ! 

So we see that Crows must be judged by the stand- 
ards of Crows, just as men are measured by the 
standards of men. 

From this point of view I find much to admire 
in the Crow. It is true that he takes our corn and 
robs birds' nests of their eggs and young. But if a 
wild Crow should show as much confidence in me 
as Chickadee does, I should welcome his friendship 

and consider myself honored among my kind. 

97 



98 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

Unfortunately for the Crow this is not the atti- 
tude of the world toward him. By both man and 
bird he is treated as an outlaw. The former denies 
him the protection his laws are designed to give 
other birds, the latter seems to consider him a great 
black ogre with whom no self-respecting bird would 
associate. 

Whether the Indian treated the Crow as an enemy 
I do not know, but ever since the white man came 
to this country his hand has been raised against this 
bird of sable pinion. The Indian has long since dis- 
appeared from most of the country in which he for- 
merly thrived, but the Crow is doubtless as abundant 
to-day as he ever was. Unable to kill Crows as 
readily as he did savages, civilized man marks his 
indignant if harmless protest against them by placing 
scarecrows in the fields from which the birds still 
take their toll. This consists not alone of corn but 
also of injurious grubs. In the pastures and grass- 
lots the Crow also captures countless grasshoppers, 
so that he is not without some value to man. In- 
deed, those who have most closely studied his fare, 
tell us that he does quite as much good as harm. 

The Crow owes his remarkable success in life to 
his intelligence. He may be over-suspicious at times, 
but you can't fool him often. When it comes to a 
matching of wits in the woods he will usually out- 



FIELD BIRDS 99 

guess you. If the would-be crow-killer should be 
about to get within range of some inexperienced or 
unsuspecting bird, he is almost always warned of 
danger by his companions. 

It is to this good fellowship, and to their loyalty 
to one another, that Crows owe their comparative 
safety from attack by man. 

Whether, as has been stated, they post sentinels 
when raiding a corn-field, I do not know, but that 
they have a note of alarm which is understood by 
all other Crows is beyond question. The note of a 
telegraphic instrument is all on one key, but there 
is no limit to its power of expression. So, while we 
think of the Crow's language as containing the one 
word "caw" he, nevertheless, can convey a surprising 
number of meanings with this syllable. There are 
long caws and short caws, rolling caws and rasping 
caws; phrases of two caws and phrases of four caws, 
and all apparently stand for different things. When 
the Crow hears an Owl, for example, he utters three 
short caws, which is apparently a rally call, and soon 
a dozen Crows are flying about overhead where but 
one was before. The discovery of danger is an- 
nounced by a series of hurried caws and, without 
stopping to ask questions, every Crow within hear- 
ing takes to his wings. 

It man could not talk he would be but little higher 



ioo OUR WINTER BIRDS 

in the scale of life than some animals. It is his abil- 
ity to communicate with his fellows that has helped 
to develop his mind. So perhaps we may believe that 
the Crow's intelligence is related to his powers of 
speech. 

If Crows are avoided by other birds, they at least 
show a great liking for the society of one another. 
It is only when nesting that Crows are not found in 
companies. Then they scatter to build their large 
nests of sticks lined with cedar or grape-vine bark, 
grass, moss, etc., usually about thirty feet above the 
ground. They are very silent near their nests. One 
never hears a Crow voicing its protest against a 
trespasser as the Robin and Catbird do. 

The four tG six eggs, which are laid about the 
middle of April, are bluish green, thickly marked 
with shades of brown. 

Perhaps the Crow does not nest in colonies be- 
cause he is too wise to place his eggs, as it were, all 
in one basket, where they could be found and de- 
stroyed more easily than if he were to hide them 
at widely separated places. However this may be, 
as soon as the young can fly the birds gather in loose 
companies. From the northern boundary of the 
United States southward Crows are found through- 
out the year; but most of those in the more northern 
states go to the Middle States for the winter. In 



FIELD BIRDS 101 

October we may see them migrating by day, string- 
ing across the sky, for Crows never fly in such close- 
massed flocks as do Redwings or Grackles. 

During the winter Crows return every night to 
roost in the same woods. Such a great Crow lodg- 
ing-house may contain as many as 200,000 Crows, 
and is one of the most remarkable sights in Ameri- 
can bird-life. 

In the morning the birds fly out to every point of 
the compass to forage for food along the beaches, 
on the uplands, or in old cornfields where scarecrow, 
more disreputable looking than ever, still spreads 
his ill-clad arms in silent, unheeded warning. 



THE SNOW BUNTING AND TREE 
SPARROW 

TWO FRIENDS OF THE FARMER 

Snow Bunting 

{Fig- 57) 




F a snow flake should take the form 
of a bird, I arn sure it would be- 
come a Snow Bunting. The white 
in the Bunting's plumage is so con- 
spicuous that when we see a flock 
blown before the wind they suggest 
a flurry of snow. The very spirit of the north 
seems embodied in them. They not only look like 
snow but they seem to love it. They come to us 
with the snow in the fall and leave with it in the 
spring to return to their summer home in the Arctic 
regions. 

Always we see them in flocks, on plains, wide- 
spreading fields, or along the shores of lake or sea. 
They walk or run, and their long hind toe-nail 
leaves a track in the snow which can be mistaken only 
for that of the Horned Lark or Longspur. In all 

102 



FIELD BIRDS 103 

three of these birds the hind-toe is evidently not in- 
tended for grasping, as it is with the Robin, and 
doubtless for this reason they rarely perch in trees 
or similar places. 

As we might surmise from its terrestrial habits, 
and short, strong bill, the Snow Bunting is a seed- 
eater. Dr. Judd, of the U. S. Department of Agri- 
culture, found as many as 1,500 weed seeds in the 
stomach of a single Snow Bunting. Like the Tree 
Sparrows, therefore, this visitor from the far north 
is not only a welcome, but a very useful guest. Un- 
fortunately he is rarely found south of Pennsyl- 
vania. What a harvest of seeds he would find in 
the more southern states where the snowfall is too 
light to hide the weed stalks ! 

Hoffman describes the notes of the Snow Bunting 
as a "high, sweet, though slightly mournful 'tee or 
tee-oo/ a sweet rolling whistle and a harsh 'bzz.' " 

Tree Sparrow 
{Fig. 44) 

Early in October, some weeks before our familiar 
Chipping Sparrow leaves for the south, a cousin of 
his comes from the north to remain with us until 
April. The two birds resemble each other in general 
appearance, but the Tree Sparrow is somewhat 
larger and heavier and in the center of his breast 



io 4 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

he wears a small, dusky badge, while the Chipping 
Sparrow is unmarked below. 

In voice and character, the cousins are quite unlike. 
Chippy's call is an insignificant little "chip" which 
would attract the attention of no one but a bird stu- 
dent; but the Tree Sparrow's wmter notes are a 
crisp, merry tinkle. The birds are usually in com- 
panies and when hunting for seeds in old weed-stalks 
which stick up above the snow, their happy, conver- 
sational chatter makes one think of a lot of children 
gathering nuts. A short time before they leave us 
to return to their summer home in Canada, we may 
hear their canary-like song. 

We have already seen (p. 5) how much these 
care-free little seed-eaters do for a farmer. 




REDPOLL AND SISKIN 

A PAIR OF WINTER WANDERERS 

Redpoll 

{Figs. 47, 48) 

HEN the world of birds was a fasci- 
nating mystery to me, filled with 
strange forms and stranger voices, 
about which no one seemed to 
know anything, I saw, one winter 
day, a flock of small birds feeding 
on the catkins of a white birch. They seemed to 
be about the size and general color of Chipping 
Sparrows (one of the few birds I knew by name, 
and which I called "Chippy"), but when I got near 
enough to see them clearly I discovered, to my sur- 
prise, that they wore red caps! Some, indeed, had 
red vests! What could they be? Where had they 
come from? With neither books nor "bird" friends 
to consult, both questions remained long unanswered; 
so I named the birds "Red-capped Chippies," and by 

that name I think of them to this day. 

105 



106 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

Even now, their coming is a mystery. We can 
name almost the exact day when the Flycatcher, 
Warbler, or Vireo will come back to us from the 
distant tropics, but no one can tell when the Red- 
polls will appear. Years may go by and not one be 
seen; then, without warning, some October or No- 
vember flocks of them will arrive. 

They visit the fields for weed-seed and the birches 
to get seeds from the catkins, calling and acting not 
unlike Goldfinches and Siskins. Usually they re- 
main until early spring and then return to the boreal 
regions whence they came. 

There, in early June, in a low tree or tuft of grass, 
they build a nest of dried grasses and moss, and line 
it with hair, feathers and plant-down. The eggs 
number from four to six and are white, tinged with 
green or blue, spotted with reddish brown, 

Siskin 
(Fig. 55) 

The Siskin seems midway between the Redpoll 
and the Goldfinch. He has the streaked dress of the 
former, while the tinge of yellow in his plumage 
and the wing-bands of this color, which he displays 
in flight, mark his relationship to the latter. 

The coming of the Siskin, like that of the Redpoll, 
cannot be foretold, but since his summer home in 



FIELD BIRDS 107 

the evergreen forests of northern New England 
and Canada is nearer than that of the Redpoll, he 
visits us more frequently than that far northern 
bird. He also goes farther south, sometimes reach- 
ing Florida; while the Redpoll rarely goes beyond 
Virginia. 

To his call-note, "e-e-e-p," the Siskin adds another 
much like that of his Goldfinch cousin. He sings 
both on the wing and when at rest, but has not so 
good a voice as the Goldfinch. Seeds of weeds, cat- 
kins and cones form his fare, and at mealtime he is 
often to be found with the Redpoll and Goldfinch. 

The nest of twigs and rootlets, padded with plant- 
down, is built in evergreens. The four pale bluish 
white, thinly-spotted eggs, are laid from April to 
June. 



HORNED LARK AND LONGSPUR 



TWO RUNNERS ON SKIS 



Horned Lark 




{Fig. 42) 

E all know that the Horned Lark 
cannot write, but if we look in the 
right places we may sometimes see 
his "mark" imprinted on the snow, 
when we know as surely as though 
it were written, that either a 
Horned Lark, or Snow Bunting, or the rare Lapland 
Longspur has been before us. All three live on the 
ground, and all three have the long hind toe-nail 
which belongs to walking, terrestrial birds, and is 
quite unlike the curved, hooked hind toe-nail which 
gives most perching birds a strong, firm grasp of the 
limb on which they are resting. 

During the winter Horned Larks, or, as they are 
also called, Shore Larks, live in flocks which frequent 
broad, open fields, beaches and tidal flats. When 
disturbed, they bound lightly into the air, uttering 

a high, thin, "tsee-tsee," and swing off to some new 

108 



FIELD BIRDS 109 

feeding ground, or, hesitating a moment, as if their 
interrupted meal were too good to leave, they drop 
back to the place from which they started. 

Most of the Horned Larks that spend the winter 
with us leave early in April to return to their summer 
home in the Arctic regions. Those that remain 
with us during the summer are smaller and paler, 
with a white instead of yellow forehead and with 
little or no yellow on the throat. This, the Prairie 
Horned Lark, is the first of our song birds to go to 
housekeeping, the three or four greenish white, 
speckled eggs being laid as early as the first week 
in March. Although the Horned Lark is a cousin 
of the Skylark, its song is a weak, unmusical twitter 
which bears but small resemblance to that of its 
famous relative. Perhaps because it lacks the in- 
spiration which carries the Skylark far up into the 
sky, there to pour forth its song, the Horned Lark 
sings from a humble clod of earth as well as while 
soaring. 

Lapland Longspur 

If we find in a flock of Horned Larks one, or per- 
haps two or three darker birds, we will probably 
have seen that rare winter visitor from the far 
North, the Lapland Longspur. 

Possibly because he loves company and cannot find 



no 



OUR WINTER BIRDS 



enough individuals of his own kind to afford him 
companionship, the Longspur also associates with 
Snow Buntings. He resembles both Lark and Bunt- 
ing in general habits, but his reddish brown wings, 
the absence of "horns" and of yellow markings, and 




Lapland Longspur 



the presence of a blackish patch on the breast, dis- 
tinguish him. 

The Longspur's winter notes are described as "a 
harsh and rattling chirr, less musical than the roll of 
the Snow Bunting," and a sweet "tyee," which cor- 
responds to the "tee" of the Bunting. 



FIELD BIRDS in 

On our western plains Longspurs occur during the 
winter in such countless numbers that after a severe 
storm in southwestern Minnesota, on March 13, 
1904, several million Longspurs were found lying 
on the snow-covered earth dead or dying. 



NORTHERN SHRIKE 



THE BUTCHER BIRD 



Wat/0% 



{Fig. 5 6) 

HE author of the "Just So" stories 
might change my heading of 
"Northern Shrike" to "The Spar- 
row that Tried to Become a 
Hawk." Here is a bird which was 
born in the group of Passeres 
{Passer — A Sparrow) or Perching Birds; who is a 
relative of the gentle Red-eyed Vireo (sometimes 
called Preacher), but who shows such astonishingly 
bloodthirsty habits that he is commonly known as 
the Butcher-bird No larger than a Grosbeak, with 
a feather-suit cut on much the same pattern, and with 
feet fitted for perching (not tearing) , only his strong, 
hooked bill shows any approach to the structure of 
a Hawk. 

But if he could not make his form hawk-like, he 
has done his best to make his habits so. Unsociable 
in disposition, he seems to avoid the company even 
of his own kind, and the only interest he shows in 

112 



FIELD BIRDS 113 

other birds is when, perched solitary and alone, he 
awaits an opportunity to kill them. More persist- 
ent than a Hawk who, failing in its swoop on its 
intended prey, will let it escape, the Shrike hangs 
on the trail of its victim, making every dodge and 
turn, following closely through bushes and out again, 
until at last the capture is made and his sharply 
hooked bill does its fatal work. 




The Hawk-like Bill of the Shrike 

Then he discovers that after all he is a Sparrow! 
In place of the strong, large feet with their long, 
curved talons, he has only the perching feet of his 
relatives. Much too small, they are, to grasp his 
prize in true Hawk-like fashion while he tears it 
with his bill. What is to be done? The Shrike, in 
changing his disposition and with it his expression, 
may also have changed his face and with it his beak, 
but unable to alter his feet he has had to find a substi- 
tute for those sharp, serviceable claws of his model, 
the Hawk. So, gathering the captured Redpoll, 
Siskin or Junco in his feet (which at least are power- 
ful enough for that) he seeks some favorable bush 



ii 4 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

or tree where, with much tugging and fitting, the 
bird is stuck upon a thorn or hung from a close- 
forked branch. Then the well-named Butcher-bird 
can help himself at his leisure. 

Not only birds but also mice are found on the 
Shrike's shambles, and often he wantonly leaves 
them there, vain sacrifices to the instinct which 
prompts him to destroy even when he is not hungry. 

There is one Sparrow-like trait which the Shrike 
has not succeeded in discarding. A member of the 
Order of Songbirds, he must still sing; and strange 
it is in early spring to hear this cut-throat and hang- 
man among birds warbling a song which is not unlike 
that of a Catbird. One would as soon expect music 
from a Hawk itself. 

The Shrike passes the summer in northern Canada 
and comes to us in October to remain until early 
April. One rarely sees more than a few individuals 
during the winter, and the species does not often go 
south of Maryland. 

He has a smaller southern cousin known as the 
Loggerhead or Migrant Shrike, which in summer 
nests as far north as southern Canada and winters 
from Maryland southward. 

The Loggerhead lives chiefly on grasshoppers 
and other insects which it detects at a distance of 
thirty yards or more from its perch as they crawl 



FIELD BIRDS 115 

about in their grassy jungle. These it impales 
upon thorns and also upon the barbs of wire fences, 
which, it might well be imagined, were erected for 
the double purpose of supplying it with perch and 
meathook. 

Only an expert can tell a Loggerhead from a 
Northern Shrike in nature; but when the birds are 
seen at close range it will be observed that the 
Loggerhead has the forehead blacker than the 
Northern Shrike, and the underparts are usually 
whiter, immature individuals of the northern bird 
having fine, wavy, brownish cross-lines on the breast. 

While therefore difficult to distinguish one from 
the other, the black and white and gray plumage 
and characteristic flight of Shrikes quickly distinguish 
them from our other winter birds. They are not 
strong fliers, a number of rapid wing-strokes being 
followed by a short sail, as though the bird were 
alternately running and sliding, and the flight almost 
always ends by an upward swing to the highest part 
of whatever the bird alights on, where, like a bird 
of prey, it may keep a sharp outlook for its quarry. 



MEADOWLARK 

A HERALD OF SPRING 

(Fig. 23) 




HE Meadowlarks that remain with 
us during the winter live in flocks 
in the marshes or lowlands where 
the tides, or a flowing spring, pre- 
vent the earth from freezing. In 
such places they can probe the 
ground with their long, strong bills for grubs and 
worms. The first Meadowlark I can remember see- 
ing was feeding on a patch of vivid green grass 
which bordered a snow-surrounded spring oozing 
from a hillside. It was a bit of spring set in the 
very heart of winter and the bird's rich yellow 
breast gleamed like a flower against the green back- 
ground. 

Evidently I saw this bird before he saw me, for 
the Meadowlark seems careful not to show his 
brightly colored vest and black cravat, but turns 
his neutral-toned back toward the observer. 

Traveling on horseback through a part of Cuba 
116 



FIELD BIRDS 117 

where Meadowlarks were common along the high- 
way, I observed that all the birds perching on the 
fences by the roadside turned their backs toward 
me as I passed. Try as I would, I could not see 
their very differently colored underparts. Finally 
I came to one bird who faced me squarely and, 
turning his back toward the field behind him, per- 
mitted me to ride by without flying. Here, I said to 
myself, is a young and inexperienced bird who does 
not realize how much more conspicuous his breast 
is than his back, with its dull earth-brown, streaked 
with dead grass-blades and stems; but, looking fur- 
ther, I saw a Hawk coursing over the field just be- 
yond the Meadowlark. The bird, too, had seen 
him, and evidently choosing the lesser of two evils, 
had turned his strongly-marked breast toward me 
while the neutral-tinted back was presented to the 
Hawk! 

While the Meadowlark, like all walking birds, 
spends most of the time on the ground, where it se- 
cures its food and builds its home, it also frequently 
perches in trees. When on the ground in the grasses, 
like Bob-white, it often will not fly until one almost 
steps upon it. Its resemblance to a Bob-white at 
such times is so great that it is sometimes called 
"Marsh Quail"; Quail, we remember, being a com- 
mon name of Bob-white. But the white outer tail- 



n8 



OUR WINTER BIRDS 



feathers which the Meadowlark flashes as it flies 
will always distinguish it from Bob-white. 

Let us watch our bird as, first flapping, then sail- 
ing, then flapping again, he alights in a tree nearby, 




Meadowlark (Upper Figure) and Bob-white 

'The white outer tail-feathers which the Meadowlark flashes as it 

flies will always distinguish it from Bob-white." 



uttering a sharp note and metallic twitter while nerv- 
ously flitting his tail and showing its white feathers. 
Alert and suspicious he seems now to realize that 
his brown-streaked cloak no longer conceals him 
and, trusting to his wings instead of to his protective 



FIELD BIRDS 119 

colors, he takes flight before we are within forty 
yards of him. 

In March the Meadowlarks which have passed 
the winter with us will leave for more northern 
homes, and their places will be taken by new ar- 
rivals from the south. 

The Woodpeckers and Ruffed Grouse are the 
drummers among birds, but the Meadowlark plays 
the fife. High, sweet and clear his notes ring like a 
clarion call through the chill March air, and we stop 
to greet the feathered fifer — true herald of spring. 
Later in the year, perhaps when his mate is near, 
he sometimes sings while flying; a warbling, twitter- 
ing song quite unlike that with which he announces 
the birth of a new year. 

Meadowlarks have been known to nest within a 
few yards of occupied houses, but as a rule they 
show very little confidence in man; a fact I have 
always regretted, for I am sure that these strong, 
wholesome, hardy birds would be well worth num- 
bering among one's friends. But they prefer their 
own company to ours, and usually nest where they 
are free from intrusion. The uncut and unused por- 
tions of golf courses make admirable meeting places 
for Meadowlarks. Here, in early May, they con- 
struct their arched nests of grasses and lay four to 
six white eggs, spotted and speckled with brown. 



BOB-WHITE 



A BIRD OF GOOD CHEER 



{Figs. I, 2) 




ITH most birds family life lasts only 
during the nesting season. This 
includes the time when the young 
are helpless and entirely dependent 
on their parents for food, and also 
a period of variable length when, 
under the care of their parents, they learn what to 
eat, where and how to find it, how to avoid the ene- 
mies of their kind, where to sleep, and the daily 
routine of their lives. 

After this preparation, and having exchanged 
their nestling suit for their first winter costume, 
family ties are usually broken and the young be- 
come independent and shift for themselves. Some 
birds join great flocks of their own species, as do 
the Blackbirds, Starlings, Shorelarks and Snow 
Buntings. Others, like the Juncos, White-throated, 
and Tree Sparrows, live in rather scattered com- 
panies which are probably associated day after day; 

120 



FIELD BIRDS 121 

while a few, like the Shrike, live solitary and alone. 

But the Bob-white family is too happy to be sepa- 
rated. The children left the nest soon after leaving 
the egg, and have become accustomed to traveling 
about with their parents. They do not migrate and 
doubtless do not therefore feel that restlessness which 
induces other birds to leave their home. 

Day after day, therefore, they are never more 
than a few feet apart, feeding contentedly side by 
side from the wood borders, through the surround- 
ing brush lots into the stubble fields, resting in the 
hedgerows at noon and gradually working back 
toward their sleeping place in the evening. Then 
they all get, as it were, into one bed, roosting in a 
tight little circle on the ground, tail to tail, heads out, 
so that if sudden flight should be necessary they 
could all take wing without danger of a collision. 

Sometimes the falling snow gently spreads a white 
covering over the sleeping birds, who, if there be 
no fall in temperature, can easily throw it aside in 
the morning. But should the snow be succeeded by 
a drizzling rain, which freezes as it falls, the birds 
are imprisoned and their bed becomes their grave. 

I have never flushed a flock of Bob-whites during 
the night, but I can imagine that it would be a very 
nerve-trying experience for all concerned. It is cer- 



122 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

tainly startling enough to walk into a covey during 
the day. 

Bob-white's plumage represents the best type of 
what is termed protective coloration. That is, an 
arrangement of colors and markings which make 
the bird, when it is motionless, seem so like its sur- 
roundings that it is very difficult, if not almost im- 
possible, to see it. Birds so colored rely upon their 
invisibility, rather than flight, to escape from their 
enemies. 

We cannot, of course, believe that Bob-white does 
not hear us as we come crashing through the bushes. 
At the first sound he is doubtless on the alert, but 
trusting to his color he squats in his tracks and waits 
for us to pass. It is only when we almost step on 
him that he seems to lose faith in his protective 
suit and takes to his wings. Short, rounded wings 
they are, not designed to carry him far, but wings 
that can be moved quickly in a flying start. For 
after waiting until the last moment, it is necessary 
that Bob-white put on "full speed ahead" in the 
shortest possible time, and with a whirring roar he 
springs from the earth and shoots away like a bullet. 
Then, indeed, the family is so widely scattered that 
one wonders how its members ever find one another 
again. They do not, as a rule, perch in trees, so 
that sight is of no assistance, while the air route 



FIELD BIRDS 123 

over which they travel leaves no trail that could 
be retraced. But listen! What note was that? 
A soft, whistled "Where are you? where are you?" 
It comes first from the right, then from the left, 
then from far ahead near that thicket yonder. Let 
us answer it, "Where are you? where are you?" 
At once the responses come, and as we reply they 
draw nearer. Soon we hear low twittering notes 
and a moment later a Bob-white runs out into a 
nearby opening, head erect, looking eagerly here 
and there for the bird it was answering. Then 
others come and we quickly withdraw while they 
excitedly twitter their experiences to one another. 

I once heard this "scatter call," as it is termed 
by sportsmen, from my window in the Museum of 
Natural History in New York City. Little think- 
ing that a Bob-white could be its author, I neverthe- 
less immediately answered it when, to my surprise, 
a Bob-white ran rapidly across the lawn and was 
actually about to enter the Museum door when, 
alarmed by visitors, he took flight and disappeared. 
Poor little fellow, I wonder did he ever find his 
way out of the great city into which he had so 
strangely wandered? 

In April the flocks break up and the birds begin 
to pair, the males battling for their mates like 
diminutive game cocks, and challenging their rivals 



i2 4 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

with the ringing notes from which they are named : 
"Bob-white! Ah-Bob-white !" they call, or as the 
farmer puts it, "Buck-wheat-ripe ?" What a cheer- 
ful call it is! No one, it seems to me, can hear it 
without a feeling of warmth in his heart for the 
bird whose voice so clearly echoes the joy of the 
season. 

Late in May or early June the nest is made on 
the ground in the bushy border of some field, and 
as many as ten to eighteen pointed, white eggs are 
laid. Bob-white is an attentive husband as well as 
an ardent lover. Unlike most of the members of 
the order to which he belongs, he does not leave all 
the duties of the household to his wife, but takes his 
place on the nest when she is feeding; and when 
her tiny chicks appear he is apparently as much 
concerned as their mother in their welfare. 



SPARROW HAWK 



A HUMBLE MEMBER OF A ROYAL FAMILY 



{Figs. 7 , 8) 



"— 1| HAVE never known any one who 
I 2^ made friends with a wild Sparrow 

M$ Hawk. The bird will not come to 

\ %f us and he will not permit us to go 

<M*~^ to him. Still, if one has a young 

Sparrow Hawk, which has not yet 
learned to fear man, it can be taught to trust him 
and, in a hawk-like way, apparently to like him. At 
least, it recognizes its master and when given its 
freedom, will come to a whistled call. 

We must, however, remember that the Sparrow 
Hawk is a Falcon and hence belongs to the most 
distinguished family of Hawks. We have heard of 
falconry and how the Peregrine Falcon (which in 
North America is called Duck Hawk) was trained 
to hunt for the nobles of England, who alone were 
permitted to use this splendid, fearless bird of fleet 
wing and powerful foot. The Sparrow Hawk, 
therefore, while a very humble relative of the dash- 

125 



126 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

ing Peregrine, evidently possesses enough true Fal- 
con temperament and intelligence to learn to asso- 
ciate with man. 

The Peregrine preys exclusively upon birds, but 
the Sparrow Hawk, in spite of its name, feeds 
chiefly upon insects. The Peregrine goes boldly 
forth in search of food, and strikes his victim on the 
wing. The Sparrow Hawk believes in watchful 
waiting, and captures his quarry on the ground. 
Usually he has a favorite look-out on a dead stub, 
a telegraph wire, or some similar perch from which 
he can keep a close watch on the surrounding coun- 
try. I have known them to use the staffs which 
mark the holes of a golf course. The flag fluttering 
at their feet might alarm most birds, but the Spar- 
row Hawk accepts it as though it was his own 
emblem of victory. Suddenly he starts and flies per- 
haps fifty yards or more directly to the ground where 
his marvelously sharp eyes have detected a grass- 
hopper. If the insect should disappear he hovers 
on rapidly beating wings directly above the place in 
which he last saw it, waiting for another view and 
an opportunity to strike, just as the Fish Hawk and 
Kingfisher poise before plunging on their prey. 

Woe to the unsuspecting grasshopper that crawls 
from beneath the protection of a sheltering leaf 
when the Sparrow Hawk is watching nearby I 



FIELD BIRDS 



127 



Quickly the bird drops, seizes him in its claws and 
bears him to his perch, which serves as a table as 
well as a look-out. 







Sparrow Hawk 
"Hovers on rapidly beating -wings" 

The Sparrow Hawk is not common in the north- 
ern states during the winter, but increases in num- 
bers during its northward migrations in March. It 
is always a bird of the open fields, and rarely visits 
the woods. 

The Falcons, unlike most Hawks, build, as a rule, 



128 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

no nest; but lay their eggs in holes in trees, or in 
openings or ledges in cliffs. The Sparrow Hawk 
selects a hollow limb, enters it from the top or 
through a knot hole or doorway drilled by a Wood- 
pecker, and returns to the same place year after 
year. The three to seven brownish eggs are laid in 
April or early May. The young birds don at once 
the characteristic plumage of the male or female, 
as the case may be. The male, it will be observed 
(Fig. 7) , has one bar in the tail, while in the fernale 
there are seven or eight. The female is streaked 
below from bill to tail with reddish brown, while the 
male has the breast tinted with brownish and the 
sides and abdomen spotted with black. One can 
always tell a Sparrow Hawk by its small size, brown- 
ish color, black markings about the head and habit 
of perching in exposed places in the open, and, with 
the aid of glasses, it is generally possible to say 
whether it is a male or female. 

The Sparrow Hawk's call is a high, rapidly re- 
peated "Killy, killy, killy," which in the south gives 
it the name of "Killy Hawk."" This note is given 
on the wing, especially by the male in the mating 
season. I do not know whether it is also uttered by 
the female. 



SHORT-EARED OWL 



A MARSH MOUSER 




{Fig. 1 8) 

HE books tell us that the Short-eared 
Owl is nearly cosmopolitan. Which 
means that it may be found from 
the bleak Arctic tundra of Canada 
to the wind-swept plains of Pata- 
gonia, in Europe, in Asia and 
Africa, and on remote oceanic islands. What an 
incalculable number of years his kind must have 
lived to become so widely distributed over the 
earth's surface! 

Unlike most Owls, he shuns the forest and lives 
in marshy, grassy places. During the winter we are 
apt to find him near the coast. He arises from the 
grasses almost at our feet and flies silently to some 
stump or little knoll to watch us as we approach. 

Occasionally he may be seen by day beating low 
over the marsh in search of the meadow-mice which 
form the largest part of his fare. Perhaps the fact 
that these mice are active by day accounts for the 

Owl's diurnal habits. 

129 



130 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

Like the Marsh Hawk, the Short-eared or Marsh 
Owl nests upon the ground, laying four to seven 
white eggs in April. While the Short-eared Owl's 
u ears" are not ears, they certainly are short, being 
barely evident unless the Owl raises them ; and this 
fact, in connection with its yellowish brown plum- 
age, yellow eyes and the character of its haunts, will 
serve to identify it. 



FOREST BIRDS 




IV 
FOREST BIRDS 

^HE tree-inhabiting birds like the 
Chickadee, Nuthatches and Wood- 
peckers, which come about our 
homes, are all forest birds which, 
when the forests disappear or de- 
crease in extent, adapt themselves 
to the change and accept the trees of our orchards 
and gardens in place of those of the woods. 

But there are other species which cannot make 
this change. Either they do not find the food they 
require near the home of man, or they are by nature 
too wild to take up their residence near ours. 

The Screech Owl finds an old apple-tree just as 
good a home as a forest-growing beech. But the 
Great Horned Owl will not leave his forest dwell- 
ing; and when it disappears he seeks another like it. 
So if we want to see him and other true wood in- 
habitants, we must go to their haunts. 

While we cannot value too highly the friendship 
of Chickadee, Downy and Nuthatch, it is well that 
some birds should express to us the spirit of the 
wilderness and forever be associated in our minds 

with the mystery of the forest. 

133 



THE HAWKS 



OUTLAWS AMONG BIRDS 

{Figs. 4-6, g-12) 




AWKS are the warriors of the bird 
world. Fierce, aggressive, usually 
untamable, with spirit unbroken by 
imprisonment, they neither ask nor 
give mercy. Raptores, or Robber 
Birds, the ornithologist calls them, 
but I do not think that they deserve this title. A 
robber, as we understand the term, is one who not 
only breaks the law but usually does so in the most 
sneaking, despicable way. But the Hawks obey, 
they do not break the law, and they do it with no 
attempt at concealment. 

Nature's laws demand that certain forms of life 
shall live upon other forms of life. Every creature 
has its special enemies which prevent it from be- 
coming unduly abundant. So it is the Hawks' 
duty to prey upon mice and shrews, lizards, frogs, 
birds and other animals to prevent them from be- 
coming so abundant that they would overrun the 

134 



FOREST BIRDS 135 

world. From Nature's point of view there is no more 
cruelty in a Hawk's catching a mouse than there is 
in a Swallow's catching a mosquito. Both are play- 
ing the part that is assigned to them. The Hawk's 
equipment of strong, sharp, curved talons, hooked, 
tearing bill, and great strength are no more effective 
than the large mouth and wonderful agility of the 
Swallow. But the Hawk looks the part; the Swal- 
low does not, and we therefore attribute to the for- 




The Powerful Grasping Feet of (a) an Owl, (b) a Hawk 

mer a disposition in keeping with its habits and 
expression. 

It is a great Hawk — the Eagle — which we have 
made the symbol of war, just as we have made the 
gentle-appearing Dove the symbol of peace. Per- 
haps if the less obvious characteristics of other birds 
were as well known to us, the Woodpecker would 
symbolize industry, the Nuthatch thrift, the Brown 
Creeper, perseverance, and the Chickadee, good 
cheer. 

Man has been more unjust to Hawks than to any 
other birds. The motto "give a dog a bad name" 



136 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

applies even more closely to these winged hunts- 
men. Because one kind of Hawk has an undue 
fondness for poultry, all Hawks are commonly be- 
lieved to be chicken thieves and the name "Chicken 
Hawk" or "Hen Hawk" is applied to Hawks at 
large, without regard to species or habits. 

The Food of Hawks 

So general is the opinion that all Hawks are de- 
structive to poultry, that, instead of giving these birds 
a vote of thanks for their services in destroying the 
small rodents so destructive to our crops, some states 
have actually offered a reward for every one killed. 
It is just as though we should treat an ally as an 
enemy and turn our guns upon him instead of wel- 
coming him with open arms. 

The states that passed such ill-considered laws lost 
not only the thousands of dollars foolishly expended 
in bounties, but also the services of the Hawks that 
were killed, and their crops suffered from a cor- 
responding increase in the numbers of mice which 
were formerly kept in check by the Hawks that had 
been so unjustly condemned to death. 

The warfare against the Hawks (and also their 
relatives, the Owls) became so serious that the 
United States Department of Agriculture sent a re- 
quest throughout the country for the stomachs of 



FOREST BIRDS 137 

Hawks that had been killed in order that their con- 
tents might be carefully examined and its nature 
learned, not from hearsay, but by actual analysis. 
Many thousands of stomachs were sent to Wash- 
ington. Experts devoted several years to a study 
of their contents and the results proved, what nat- 
uralists had long believed to be true, that, with but 
few exceptions, our Hawks and Owls are among 
the farmer's best friends. It was found, for ex- 
ample, that of five hundred and thirty Red-tailed 
Hawks no less than four hundred and fifty-seven, 
or eighty-eight per cent, had eaten field mice, rabbits, 
ground squirrels, gophers, and cotton rats, all more 
or less harmful mammals. 

Only three out of two hundred and six Red-shoul- 
dered Hawks had committed the crime of chicken- 
killing for which the law condemned unheard the 
remaining two hundred and three, while one hundred 
and forty-two of these proved their value as allies 
by eating mice and other rodent pests and ninety- 
two had feasted upon insects. 

The Marsh Hawk, Broad-winged, and Rough- 
legged Hawks had equally good, or even better rec- 
ords, but when we come to Cooper's and the Sharp- 
shinned Hawks we find the real offenders. Of 
ninety-four of the former thirty-four had been eat- 
ing poultry or game birds and fifty-two other birds. 



138 



OUR WINTER BIRDS 



The Sharp-shinned Hawk is too small to catch grown 
chickens, but it is winged death to small birds. Ex- 
amination of one hundred and five stomachs of 




"XT 

'" •llllj 




MlMS 

Red-shouldered Hawk 

this little Hawk showed that six had eaten poultry 
or game birds, and ninety-nine other birds. The 
Goshawk, a very large cousin of these two Hawks, 
which comes to the northern states usually in small 
numbers in winter, also feeds upon other birds and 



FOREST BIRDS 139 

is most destructive to game birds, particularly Ruffed 
Grouse. Fortunately this bird is not common, and 
as we are here concerned only with those species 
which we may expect to see any winter's day, let us 
see how we may distinguish the innocent ones from 
those that are guilty. 

We must not be misled by appearances. The 
large size, habit of perching in conspicuous places, 
and of soaring in wide circles while calling loudly, 
has made the Red-shouldered and Red-tailed Hawks 
familiar figures to the farmer. But the Cooper's 
and Sharp-shinned Hawks are less frequently seen. 
They avoid exposed places, slip quickly through the 
woods, and, as a rule, are quiet. They are smaller, 
lighter birds than the Red-shoulder and Red-tail, 
and few people seeing all four together would select 
them as the criminals. 

It is, however, far easier to drop on some unsus- 
pecting mouse than to capture a bird. Watch the 
Sharp-shin in pursuit of a Robin. With what speed 
it follows its victim, dashing through the trees, mak- 
ing every twist and turn of the poor bird that is 
flying for its life, until its keen talons are plunged 
into its prey. 

The heavy-bodied Red-shoulder or Red-tail could 
not perform this feat. They are built for hunting 
in the open and, while they may sometimes take a 



140 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

bird on the ground unawares, they do not, as it were, 
fly him down. 

I have placed these Hawks in the group of "Birds 
of the Woods," for they all nest in the forests and 
are true wood-inhabiting Hawks. Still we shall find 
them also in the fields wherever there are trees in 
which the mouse-hunters may watch or the bird- 
hunters hide. 

The Red-shoulder and the Red-tail 

The Red-shoulder is not quite so large as the 
Red-tail and has the underparts reddish brown with- 
out black markings. Its call is a fierce "Kee-you, 
kee-you" uttered as the bird sails in wide circles, 
often so high that he is but a mere speck in the sky. 
The Blue Jay imitates this call so well that if he 
did not usually follow it with some notes of his own, 
one would think a Hawk was near by. 

The adult Red-tail may be known by the reddish 
brown tail-feathers with a single black bar, and the 
broken band of black markings crossing its under- 
parts. The immature bird has the tail barred and 
may be mistaken for a Red-shoulder but for the 
black markings below. This Hawk may best be 
known by its cry, a high, long-drawn squealing "Kee- 
ee-ee-ee-e." 

Both the Red-shoulder and Red-tail build bulky 



FOREST BIRDS 141 

nests of sticks, placing them in trees from thirty to 
seventy feet above the ground. When not disturbed 
they return to the same nest year after year. The 
three or four dull white, brownish-marked eggs are 
laid early in April. 

Cooper's and the Sharp-shinned Hawks 

In the south, Cooper's Hawk is called the "Blue 
Darter." So far as color is concerned, the name 
applies only to the adult bird, which is slaty blue 
above; but old and young may with equal truth be 
called darters. With a speed which gives them also 
the name "Bullet Hawk," they shoot through the 
air and plunge upon their prey. This is the true 
"Chicken Hawk." One visit to the poultry yard 
is very apt to be followed by another, and just as 
a man-eating tiger acquires a taste for human blood, 
so does a liking for the tender flesh of pullets doubt- 
less grow upon the Blue Darter. 

I suppose it is proper that he should pay the pen- 
alty for his raids upon the hen-yard; but how is a 
mere Hawk to know that the chickens were not 
placed there especially for him ? We spread a lunch- 
counter with nuts, seeds and suet for the Finches, 
Woodpeckers and Chickadee and make them wel- 
come guests. Why, therefore, should the Darter not 



142 



OUR WINTER BIRDS 



believe that he was invited to partake of a feast 
which had been prepared for him? 

Contrary to the rule among birds, the female 
hawk is larger than the male. This sexual differ- 
ence in size is well marked in the Darter and Sharp- 




Sharp-shinned Hawk Pursuing a Redpoll 

shin, as our figures ( Nos. 9-12) of them clearly 
indicate. The Sharp-shin is the smaller of the two, 
but a female of this species is nearly as large as a 
male Darter. While it is therefore always possible 
to identify a male Sharp-shin and a female Darter, 
the male Darter and female Sharp-shin cannot cer- 
tainly be distinguished in life. Indeed, it sometimes 
puzzles an expert to name specimens of them, when 
in the streaked, immature plumage. 



FOREST BIRDS 143 

Both species, however, without regard to sex, may 
be told from the Red-tail and Red-shoulder by their 
smaller, more slender bodies, shorter wings and 
longer tails. Note how in the other Hawks the 
folded wings reach nearly to the tip of the tail, 
while in the Darter and Sharp-shin they do not ex- 
tend more than half of its length. 

Neither cry of pursuit nor scream of victory is 
uttered by these winged huntsmen. Perhaps, indeed, 
we might better call them marketmen, for they hunt 
to supply themselves and their families with food and 
not for the mere pleasure of chase. 

Their insignificant cackling calls are therefore 
usually heard only when one approaches their nest. 
Evidently forgetting then their power of wing and 
foot, they make no attempt to defend their young 
other than a weakly uttered protest. 

Both build nests of sticks and twigs in trees in the 
woods, and lay from three to six eggs early in May. 
Those of the Sharp-shin are bluish-white, spotted or 
blotched with brownish, while the Darter's are 
bluish-white, generally unmarked. 



THE OWLS 




BIRDS OF THE NIGHT 

{Figs. 15-18) 

HE human-like traits which make 
birds so interesting to us are us- 
ually not evident until we actually 
become acquainted with them. 
This is only another way of say- 
ing that, as a rule, birds' faces do 
not reveal their characters; but Owls are exceptions. 
Any one can see at a glance that they are wise birds. 
At least they look like wise birds, and it remains for 
us to discover whether Owls actually deserve the 
reputation for wisdom which they have borne ever 
since mankind has known of their existence. 

We must, of course, always remember that Owls 
are birds and in our attempt to measure their in- 
telligence compare them, not with man, but with 
other birds. Doubtless the first thing that will im- 
press us when we make this comparison is that 

Owls arise at about the time most birds go to bed; 

144 



FOREST BIRDS 145 

and this difference in habit is so important that it 
affects their whole lives. 

Whether Owls can see as well at night as other 
birds can during the daytime we do not know; but 
the ease with which they steer a safe course through 
the woods and pounce upon a scurrying mouse be- 
low in what to our eyes is darkness, gives us some 
conception of the keenness of their vision. We may 
well believe, therefore, that instead of being handi- 
capped by their nocturnal habits, Owls enjoy a real 
advantage over diurnal birds. 

While Sparrows, Warblers and Flycatchers, for 
example, have to compete with scores of others of 
their kinds, Owls are comparatively few in species 
and in numbers, and the world at night offers them 
an abundance of room and a never-failing supply of 
food. 

So, without inquiring further into the habits of 
Owls, we must admit that, if they are responsible 
for their night-loving ways, they show no little wis- 
dom in remaining at home during what we may call 
the rush-hours of the day, and coming forth to hunt 
only when they can have the world pretty much to 
themselves. 

Two interesting exceptions to the rule that Owls 
are nocturnal are the Snowy Owl and the Hawk 
Owl, both of which are active by day. Evidently 



146 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

the fact that these Owls live in the far north where, 
in summer, the sun is visible during the entire twenty- 
four hours and consequently there is no real night, 
has made it impossible for them to wait for dark- 
ness before starting forth on their hunt for food. 
Indeed, in the fall, when the long winter night comes, 
these Owls migrate southward to latitudes where the 
sun can be seen for a part of each day, and although 
their twenty-fours are then divided into periods of 
darkness and light, they still retain their habit of 
hunting by day. 

The Food of Owls 

The studies of the food of birds made by the 
Biological Survey in Washington, have proved that 
mice form the largest part of the fare of Owls. 
They also eat large numbers of grubs and insects 
and are, therefore, valuable allies of the farmer. 

The Great Horned Owl, it is true, shows an un- 
due fondness for poultry and game, and is therefore 
not deserving of the protection which should be 
given our other members of this family. Their 
records as mousers are clearly shown by the follow- 
ing figures based on examinations of the contents 
of their stomachs. Thus, eighty-four out of ninety- 
two Long-eared Owls, seventy-seven out of eighty- 
seven Short-eared Owls, and seventeen out of nine- 



FOREST BIRDS 147 

teen Acadian Owls had all been feasting on mice, 
while of two hundred and twelve Screech Owls' 
stomachs, ninety-one contained mice and one hundred 
insects. Unlike Hawks, Owls do not as a rule hold 
their prey in their claws and tear it into pieces with 
their bills before eating it; but, if it is not too large, 
they swallow it entire. By the processes of diges- 
tion the bones and hair are formed into oblong 
wads which are ejected at the mouth. 

Hundreds of these matted pellets may sometimes 
be found on the ground beneath some dense ever- 
green in which an Owl dozes away the daylight. 
From them we may not only learn of an Owl's roost- 
ing-place, but can tell far more certainly than by 
an examination of his stomach, the nature of his 
food. Here we have not the record of one meal, 
but of hundreds of meals. Only an expert can 
identify for us all the little bones which we shall find 
closely embedded in the hair, but to one familiar 
with the anatomy of animals the more important 
ones can be distinguished as readily as we could 
name the letters of the alphabet. Placed together 
they spell the story of a night's hunting. The white- 
footed, wood, or deer mouse, the short-tailed 
meadow mouse, the jumping mouse and tiny shrews 
may all have been on the bill of fare. 

No less than four hundred and fifty-four of these 



148 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

little mammals, and of some others so rare that no 
naturalist had ever seen them in the vicinity, were 
found in two hundred pellets gathered in the tower 
of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, where 
a pair of Barn Owls, a southern species, had made 
their home. 

Even if Owls see as well by night as Hawks do 
by day, their success in capturing these dull-colored 
little animals among the tangle of grass and shelter 
of leaves in which they live is remarkable. I have 
an idea that, like the hunter waiting for his game 
to appear on some traveled "runway," Owls may 
watch over open places for the coming of mice and 
shrews. Several times, when motoring at night, the 
light of the automobile has fallen on Owls in the 
road ahead where they had apparently either just 
captured their prey, or were waiting for a victim 
to cross the road. 

Both the Hawk Owl and the Snowy Owl are such 
rare visitors to the United States that we may pos- 
sibly never see either of them. But the Great 
Horned, Barred, Long-eared, Short-eared and 
Screech Owls are with us throughout the year, and 
the Acadian sometimes wanders southward from the 
northern border of the United States in winter. 

The Screech Owl, although a wood Owl, shows so 
marked a fondness for the haunts of man that we 



FOREST BIRDS 149 

may class him with the "Home Birds"; while the 
Short-eared Owl belongs among the "Field Birds," 
leaving the remaining five among the "Forest Birds." 

Great Horned Owl 

They are not numerous, these soft-feathered lov- 
ers of darkness, and might forever be strangers to 
those who did not seek them, were it not for their 
voices. How the deep, sonorous notes of the Great 
Horned Owl echo through the stillness of the night ! 
Under favorable conditions I have heard birds call- 
ing which were not less than half a mile away. 
"Whoo, hoo-hoo-hoo, whooo, whooo," he cries, all 
on the same note, and in a tone which reminds one 
of a bass-voiced dog barking in the distance. I won- 
der do the birds and animals on which the Great 
Horned Owl preys recognize in the ominous tones 
the voice of their natural enemy? 

The ferocious, untamable nature of the Great 
Horned Owl has won for it the name of "tiger 
among birds." Sometimes it calls a wild, piercing 
scream which suggests the voice of an animal rather 
than that of a bird. I was in the heart of the Adiron- 
dacks on my first camping trip, when a Great Horned 
Owl on a mountainside across the lake uttered this 
blood-curdling cry. "Panther?" I gasped to my 
guide. "No, Hoot Owl," he replied. 



i 5 o OUR WINTER BIRDS 

The Great Horned Owl disappears with the for- 
ests. His wild nature requires more than a small 
patch of woodland for a home; so he is rare or un- 
known in more settled regions. Able to provide for 
a family at any time of the year, he does not wait 
until late spring or early summer, when food is more 
abundant, before going to housekeeping. The Great 
Horned is indeed the first of our birds to nest; its 
two or three white eggs being laid in an old Crow, 
Hawk, or Squirrel nest as early as the latter part 
of February. I knew of one nest from which an 
icicle was hanging while the mother Owl sat on her 
eggs above. Fortunate it is that the young Owls 
are born clad in a thick suit of warm, white down. 

You are far more likely to hear the Great Horned 
Owl than to see him ; but when seen he may always 
be known by his conspicuous feather "horns" and 
large size. The Long-eared, Short-eared and 
Screech, our only other Owls with "horns" or "ears," 
are, as our plate shows, less than half his size. 

In the Screech Owl these feather-tufts are enough 
like cat's ears to give this little Owl the name of 
"Cat Owl," but there is small resemblance between 
even a cat's ears and the feather-tufts of the Long- 
eared Owl, which, if feathers must be called either 
"ears" or "horns," might better be known as Long- 
horned Owl. 



FOREST BIRDS 151 

A recluse of cedar swamps and dense evergreens, 
the voice of this retiring Owl is so seldom heard that 
no one seems to know much about it. The bird's 
presence is as often betrayed by the pellets scat- 
tered beneath its roost as in any other way. 

The Long-eared Owl nests early in April, laying 
its three to six white eggs in an old Crow, Hawk, 
or Squirrel nest. 

Barred Owl 

Next to the Great Horned Owl, the Barred Owl is 
the largest of our resident Owls. He has no horns, 
and his eyes are dark brown or black, while his 
plumage, particularly that of his face, lacks the yel- 
lowish brown tints of that of the Great Horned. 
The voices of the two birds are much alike, but the 
Barred Owl's is less deep and the hoots of his call 
are not all on one note. "Whoo-whoo-whoo, who- 
whoo, to-whoo-ah" he calls in tones that go boom- 
ing through the woods. With a little practice one 
can learn to speak the Barred Owl's language well 
enough to be understood by the Owl, even if one 
cannot understand oneself! Whenever I hear one 
I always answer him and he rarely fails to come to 
me, even in the daytime. Perching near where I 
am concealed, he peers down with such an intelligent 
look in his dark eyes that I often feel I am talking 



152 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

to a feathered man rather than to a feathered bird. 

Our conversation is made up only of "whoos," 
"ahs," and "whas," but they are uttered in such a 
variety of ways that they no doubt possess an equally 
great variety of meanings. Sometimes we are joined 
by a second (I almost said "third") Owl, and then 
indeed the words fly fast and furious as we all talk 
at once. Occasionally the two real Owls sing a duet; 
or perhaps I should say a piece together. One ut- 
ters about ten rapid hoots while the other, in a 
slightly higher tone, hoots half as fast, both per- 
formers ending together with a prolonged "whoo- 
ah." Rarely their voices rise to a weird, gasping 
shriek, emphasized at its conclusion like a cry of 
distress. One night an Owl perched in the low, 
sweeping limbs of a live-oak directly above our 
house-boat on the Suwanee River, gave utterance 
to this hair-raising scream. If a wild-cat had sud- 
denly sprung upon us we could not have been more 
frightened. 

Crows seem to understand the language of Owls 
even if we do not; and too often my interviews with 
Barred Owls are interrupted by the black bandits of 
the air who, sounding their rally call, soon appear 
in numbers and worry the Owl into retreat, while 
with a chorus of caws they follow. 

The Barred Owl nests in March, laying two to 



FOREST BIRDS 153 

four white eggs, usually in a hollow tree, but some- 
times in an abandoned Hawk or Crow nest. 

Saw-whet Owl 

Should you see an Owl even smaller than the 
Screech Owl and without ears you would know that 
you have added the Saw-whet Owl to your list of 
bird friends. Poor eyesight by day or ignorance of 
man and his ways — perhaps both combined — make 
him the least wary of our Owls and when found in 
his hiding-place in some dense evergreen we may 
sometimes touch him before he takes wing. 

The Saw-whet owes his name to his notes, which 
are 'described as resembling the sound made by filing 
a large-toothed saw. He nests from the northern 
border of the United States northward and wan- 
ders southward irregularly in winter. 



RUFFED GROUSE 



A WOODLAND DRUMMER 



{Fig. 3) 




S the days grow shorter, and the 
leaves fall and the ground becomes 
covered with snow and the ponds 
with ice, we don heavier clothing, 
build a fire in the furnace, put up 
"storm doors" and prepare for the 
biting cold of winter. 

The Thrushes, Warblers, Vireos, Flycatchers and 
other Summer Resident birds have all gone to 
warmer climes; even some of those we class as Per- 
manent Residents have retreated further south or 
sought the shelter of protected lowlands, but the 
Ruffed Grouse asks no mercy of the weather nor any 
better home in winter than his woodland domain has 
furnished him in summer. 

The slender toes that then so daintily trod the 
moss and fallen leaves are now bordered with 
comb-like fringes that, like snowshoes, support him 
on the soft white carpet of the earth, and leave be- 

154 



FOREST BIRDS 155 

hind their record of his wanderings. When the 
deepening snows cover the seeds and berries, he goes 
to the upper story of his woodland dwelling and 
changes his diet to buds and catkins. If the night 
is too bleak to sleep in the open, he flies headlong 
into a snowbank and finds a warm bed beneath this 
strange blanket. 





The Slender Foot of a Ruffed Grouse in Summer (left) and 
(right) the Fringed Foot of a Ruffed Grouse in Winter, 
When the Bird Dons Snowshoes 

With the passing of winter the Grouse joins the 
band of Spring's musicians. His part is not the pipe 
of the frogs, the trumpet of the Geese, or the fife 
of the Meadowlark. The drum is his instrument, 
and most vigorously does he play his part. Thump- 
thump-thump, he begins, increasing the speed of 
beats until they run into a muffled roll. 

How the bird produces this remarkable sound 
long remained a mystery. Some persons believed 



156 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

that he beat the log on which he usually takes his 
stand; others were equally sure that he clapped his 
wings on his sides. 

It was not until Grouse, raised in captivity, be- 
came so tame that they would drum almost on one's 
knee, that it was learned that their stiff, rounded 
wings struck only the air. The startling whirr with 
which a Grouse springs into the air from beneath 
one's feet is also caused by the quick strokes of his 
concave wing-quills beating the air. 

The Grouse's tattoo is his love song. With the 
coming of May we more rarely hear it rolling 
through the woods, and then may know that his 
mate is on her leaf-lined nest at the base of some 
tree, sitting on ten or a dozen pale buff eggs. 

The Grouse chicks, like those of their relative, the 
barnyard hen, can run about as soon as the thick 
covering of down in which they are born is dry. 
They are true feathered brownies, and have the 
power of becoming invisible while your eyes are upon 
them. 

Walking through the woods in June we come sud- 
denly upon a mother Grouse and her family. Does 
she desert them ? Not a bit of it ! Thought of fly- 
ing possibly never enters her head. She thinks only 
of those little balls of down which a moment before 
were running so actively about her. At any cost 



FOREST BIRDS 157 

they must be saved. But how can she do it? She 
is not strong enough to light and they are too weak 
to fly. The use of force being therefore out of the 
question, she resorts to strategy. From a trim, grace- 
ful bird leading her brood of youngsters over the 
leaves she becomes in a twinkling, a poor, maimed, 
wing-broken, whining creature who, fluttering pain- 
fully before us, can barely keep beyond our reach. 
We will note, however, that she does keep beyond it. 
If we increase our pace she hastens hers. Finally, 
when we are just about to touch her, she drops her 
role as quickly as she assumed it, regains, as if by a 
miracle, her power of flight, and goes whirring off 
through the woods. Then we discover that we 
have been led yards away from the place where we 
first saw her and her downlings. 

Meanwhile what has become of them? We may 
remember now that we caught only a glimpse of their 
hurrying forms and then they magically disappeared. 
Let us, if we can, return to the spot where we un- 
wittingly brought such confusion into their lives. 
Shall we find them calling plaintively for their 
mother? Not a note do we hear, nor do we see a 
bird. We look carefully over each foot of ground 
and at last see one squatting on a leaf head down, 
and so motionless that he might be a leaf himself. 
Perhaps we may discover a second and a third; but 



158 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

although we know the whole family of ten or a 
dozen is within a few feet of us, most of them will 
remain invisible and not one will move. 

At the first sign of danger the mother called to 
them something in the Grouse language which means 
"scatter and squat." Disobedience with the young 
of all wild creatures often means death. Obedience 
is, therefore, instinctive, and these little Grouse were 
now waiting for the soft cluck which would tell them 
the danger was past, when each one would spring into 
life and seek the sheltering wings of its parent. 



THE GROSBEAKS 

OUR MOST DISTINGUISHED WINTER VISITORS 




T is a great blessing to have good 
neighbors whom we may see daily 
and learn to know and to love. 
Life would indeed be dreary with- 
out their congenial companionship, 
and our pleasure in their society 
grows as we form associations and share experiences 
which give us a past in common. 

Nevertheless, we always eagerly welcome the 
visitor from distant lands. He brings us news from 
strange parts of the earth which through him for the 
first time become real places and not merely names 
upon a map. 

So though we must not tire of Chickadee, Nut- 
hatch and Downy, of Song Sparrow, Flicker and 
Blue Jay, who, as the years pass, become increas- 
ingly dear to us, their daily visits never bring the 
thrill which passes through us when we see some 
rare bird visitor from a remote region. 

It is the especial charm of making friends with 
159 



160 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

the birds, that we never know to whom we will be 
introduced next. During the migration months in 
spring and fall when feathered travelers are arriv- 
ing and departing in an endless procession, our list 
of acquaintances grows so rapidly, that if we did not 
record their names, we should not remember them 
when we met again. 

But there is not a month, yes, not a day in the 
year, when we may not chance to see some bird we 
have never seen before. This ever present possi- 
bility keeps us always on the alert. Even in mid- 
winter we should maintain a constant lookout with 
the hope that our vigilance may be richly rewarded 
— for this is the season of the Grosbeaks — Pine and 
Evening. 

At any time of the year they would make a note- 
worthy addition to the bird-life of the season, but 
coming at a time when our feathered population is 
at its lowest mark and when birds of any kind mean 
more to us than when they throng every field and 
hedgerow, these large, handsome, strikingly marked 
Finches are as welcome as they are conspicuous. 

About them, as about the Crossbills, hangs the 
fascination of mystery. No one can say when they 
will come or when they will go. Absent entirely 
some years, they may be abundant others; and when 
they do come they show such entire confidence in 



FOREST BIRDS 161 

our good-will that we may form the most delightful 
intimacy with them. While, therefore, they have 
been classed under "Forest Birds," they will come 
freely about our homes if food is to be found there. 

Pine Grosbeak 
(Figs. S3, Si) 

The Pine Grosbeak is especially fond of the ber- 
ries of the mountain ash and staghorn sumach, but 
it also feeds upon cedar berries and the buds of pines 
and spruce. Its call is clearly whistled and strongly 
reminds one of the notes of the Yellow-leg. To this 
day I can clearly recall the first time I ever heard the 
note of the Pine Grosbeak. At once I answered and 
within a few moments the bird alighted on the 
ground almost at my feet. That, indeed, was a 
memorable experience. 

The Pine Grosbeak's song I have never heard, 
but it is said to be prolonged and melodious. We 
may look for this robust, hardy Finch any time be- 
tween November and March, but if it has not been 
reported before the holidays it is not likely that we 
shall see it at all during the winter. 

The male dches not acquire its red plumage until 
its second year, and meanwhile wears a dress like 
that of the female. 



1 62 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

The nest of twigs and rootlets is placed in a conif- 
erous tree somewhere in northern New England or 
Canada. The pale greenish blue, brown-spotted eggs 
are laid in June. Very little is known of the birds* 
nesting habits. 

Evening Grosbeak 

Beyond question our most distinguished winter vis- 
itor is the Evening Grosbeak. Until recent years it 
was so rarely seen east of Wisconsin and Illinois 
that few bird students could claim the honor of its 
acquaintance, but for the past eight years it has 
come to us more frequently and in greater numbers 
than the Pine Grosbeak, southern New Jersey being 
the most southern point from which it has been re- 
corded. 

About the size of the latter birds, the males have 
the forehead yellow, crown black, back olive-brown, 
underparts yellow, the wings and tail black, the for- 
mer marked with white, while the female is brownish 
gray, tinged with yellow below and on the nape, the 
wings and tail much as in the male. 

The Evening Grosbeak is usually seen in flocks 
of from six to eight to as many as sixty birds. They 
feed mainly on the seeds of the box elder, maple, 
and buckthorn, but also evidently acquire a taste for 
sunflower seeds. By placing a supply of these seeds 



FOREST BIRDS 163 

first under the buckthorn tree in which Grosbeaks 
were feeding, a writer in Bird-Lore for December, 
1 9 17, soon induced a flock of thirty birds to visit 
her window-sill, where they disputed among them- 
selves for the privilege of feeding from her hand. 




Surely no bird-lover could be accorded a higher 
honor! When perched in the trees .awaiting their 
breakfast, the constant chirping of the birds sounded 
like the jingle of small sleigh bells. Sometimes they 
sang a beautiful caroling song and occasionally ut- 
tered a soft throaty trill, like a Bluebird's note. 
From February to April these birds were almost 



1 64 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

daily visitors to the table which was always spread 
for them. Then they disappeared. Where did they 
go? No one knows. Pine Grosbeaks have been 
found nesting all the way from Nova Scotia to 
Alaska, but during the summer Evening Grosbeaks 
are rarely seen east of the Rocky Mountains. Un- 
less, therefore, we should discover them nesting in 
some remote portion of the great evergreen forests 
of eastern Canada or the northern United States, it 
is evident this handsome gold and black Finch 
has crossed the continent to be our guest during the 
winter. Certainly after so long a journey he de- 
serves the best entertainment we can give him. Let 
us make his stay so attractive that he will be tempted 
to return to us every winter. 



THE CROSSBILLS 




THE CONE-EATERS 

{Figs. 49.52) 

OME winter day you may be sur- 
prised by seeing what at first glance 
looks like a flock of red and green 
Paroquets climbing about the 
branches or hanging to the cones 
of a spruce or pine. Then you will 
remember, perhaps, that the only Paroquet we ever 
had in North America is now practically extinct, and 
that, in any event, we should not expect to see these 
birds of southern climes in our northern winters. 
The birds, like most visitors from the far north who 
know little of man and his ways, are so tame that 
you can approach them closely, and may even pick 
one off the tree as you would the cone on which it 
is feeding. You will, therefore, have no difficulty 
in seeing the peculiar form of the bird's bill with 
its singularly crossed tips; then if you have looked 

over the list and pictures of birds which may visit 

165 



1 66 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

us during the winter, the name "Crossbill" will prob- 
ably at once occur to you. 

Should you have cone-bearing trees about your 
home, you are just as likely to see Crossbills there 
as in the pines, spruces or hemlocks of a distant 
forest; but cones they must have, for on their seeds 
they feed almost exclusively. 

No one can say when the Crossbills will come. 
Years may pass without one being seen; then, some 
autumn, the country will be overrun with them. At 
once the weather-wise will predict an unusually severe 
winter under the belief that the birds have been 
driven south by exceptionally cold weather. But 
given an abundance of food and it's little the Cross- 
bills care about the weather. It is not low tempera- 
ture, ice and snow that makes them desert their 
usual winter quarters in the coniferous trees of north- 
ern New England and Canada — it is hunger that 
sends them south. 

The coming of Crossbills is not, then, a sign of 
approaching cold, but an indication that the crop 
of cones, on which they are dependent for food, has 
failed. 

The Crossbill's bill looks as though it were de- 
formed; but here, also, we must not form an opinion 
too hastily. Watch him force it between the scales 
of the spruce cones, and with a dextrous motion twist 



FOREST BIRDS 167 

them off to secure the seeds at their base, and you 
will at once see that it is an excellent tool for an 
operation of this kind. The sight or sound of these 
falling scales may sometimes be the first sign we 
have of the birds feeding above so quietly that we 
should have passed them had we not seen these 
"chips from their workshop." 

Many seeds fall with the scales, and on moist or 
rainy days, when the cone-scales are so tightly closed 
that they cannot readily be forced off, the birds fre- 
quent the ground to gather the crumbs, as it were, 
which have fallen from their table on the dry, sunny 
days when the scales were invitingly open. 

Like the Paroquets they so much resemble, Cross- 
bills chatter in low tones to one another while feed- 
ing, and again, like Paroquets, they all take wing 
together, uttering a sharp clicking note as they go. 
The only song I have ever heard was a short, and 
not loud warbling, but they may reserve their best 
efforts until they return to their nesting ground in 
the north; this may be in March, or the birds may 
remain with us until May, for the Crossbills are as 
irregular in their going as they are in their coming. 

Nesting time with the Crossbills ranges from 
March to June. The nest is built of twigs and 
grasses in an evergreen. The three or four eggs are 



1 68 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

pale greenish, spotted with brown and lavender about 
the larger end. 

The Red or American Crossbill is much the com- 
moner of our two species. It spends the summer 
not only in the north, but, in the higher parts of the 
Alleghenies, it nests as far south as North Carolina. 

The White-winged Crossbill may be readily 
known by the marking from which it receives its 
name; while that of the adult male, as our figure 
shows, is more rosy than that of the Red Crossbill. 
The red plumage in both species is not gained until 
the second year, and during the first year of its life 
the male wears a plumage like that of its mother. 



WINTER WREN 



A WOODLAND SPRITE 




{Fig. 5 8) 

VERY one who has offered it a home 
knows the House Wren, for he 
rarely fails to accept our hospital- 
ity, but comparatively few people 
have met his little cousin who 
comes to us in October, when the 
House Wren goes south, and remains until April, 
when the House Wren returns. Winter Wren, we 
call him, though in northern New England and Can- 
ada he is a Summer Wren. But at all times he is a 
Wood Wren rather than a House Wren. 

Fallen tree-tops or brush-piles in low wet woods 
are his chosen haunts. From such safe retreats he 
greets us with a rather nervous, impatient "chimp- 
chimp," much like the call-note of a Sortg Sparrow. 
With tail pertly pointed upward, or even forward, 
he jumps in and out and bobs up and down, all the 
time evidently as much interested in us as we are 

in him. 

169 



iyo OUR WINTER BIRDS 

It is not alone his color which makes him a true 
Brownie among birds, a quaint little wood sprite 
with whom we would be glad to make friends. But 
wholly unlike his cousin, he evidently has small use 
for mankind and one can imagine him s,aying: 
"Well, well, what is it you want? I really haven't 
anything for you, and would be quite as well pleased 
if you would go on about your affairs and leave me 



to mine." 



It is a pity that this diminutive Wren is so un- 
sociable, for he is a rarely talented songster, whose 
rippling, trickling melody brings delight to every one 
who hears him. This song he reserves for nesting 
time, when in some snug nook in the roots of a tree 
he builds a home of twigs and moss and lines it 
softly with feathers. 

The eggs number from five to seven and are 
white, usually finely speckled with reddish brown. 



PIONEERS FROM THE SOUTH 

CAROLINA WREN, MOCKINGBIRD, AND TUFTED 
TITMOUSE 




HE pioneers among birds, like the 
pioneers among men, are hardy, 
j^Ms^l venturesome individuals who can 

withstand the hardship and ex- 
posures of life in lands beyond the 
regions usually inhabited by their 
kind. The ability of any species of bird to extend 
the limits of its range depends upon its possession 
of pioneers and their success as an advance guard 
in entering and establishing themselves in a new 
country. 

A species, therefore, does not occupy new terri- 
tory by advancing in force, but by gradually form- 
ing outposts, from which, if conditions are favor- 
able, the increase in population gradually fills up 
the intervening areas. 

The Carolina Wren, Mockingbird and Tufted 
Titmouse are good examples of bird pioneers. All 

three are southern birds which have been slowly 

171 



172 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

advancing northward and which arc represented 
beyond the limits of the country where they are com- 
mon by more or less widely separated outlying 
settlements. 

The Tufted Titmouse 

The Tufted Titmouse looks so much stronger 
than his cousin, the Chickadee, that of the two one 
would expect him to live much the farther north. 
But the Hudsonian Chickadee lives northward to 
the very limit of tree-growth in Labrador and the 
bleak interior of British America, while the Tufted 
Titmouse is rarely found north of the latitude of 
New York City. 

With the coming of winter this species usually 
retreats a little from its more advanced stations 
and it is during these short journeys in the spring 
and fall that one is more apt to see it — or perhaps 
one should say hear it, for the Tufted Titmouse 
is an inveterate whistler and is more than apt to 
announce his presence by a loud, clear "peto, 
peto, peto," which can be heard for a long dis- 
tance and which the bird seems never to tire of re- 
peating. 

Doubtless this call is the equivalent of the Chicka- 
dee's tenderly whistled "phcebe" call, though it is 



FOREST BIRDS 173 

far from resembling it, in either form or the senti- 
ment it expresses. 

Should we follow the whistler and discover him 
actively exploring the branches, he might greet us 
with a rather hoarse "dee-dee-dee, " which would 
at once betray his relationship, while his promi- 
nent crest, soft gray colors and black frontlet would 
further serve to identify him (see initial at the head 
of this chapter). 

The Tufted Titmouse sometimes visits our lunch 
counters, but he is far from showing that confidence 
in man which makes his black-capped cousin such a 
cherished bird friend. 

The Carolina Wren 

The regular range of this fine large Wren extends 
to about the latitude of central New Jersey, but it 
has succeeded in planting outposts as far north as 
Naushon Island, off the Massachusetts coast, and 
Gardiner's Island at the eastern end of Long 
Island. 

On the sheltered, eastern slope of the Palisades 
at Englewood, New Jersey, I have seen as many 
as twelve Carolina Wrens in an hour, more than one 
usually sees in this time in the heart of their range. 

This species is not migratory and these pioneers 
must withstand the most severe winters of the coun- 



174 



OUR WINTER BIRDS 



try in which they have settled, if they are to advance 
the boundaries of their range. This fact places a 
trying test on their vitality and endurance, and only 
too often they are called upon to pay the penalty 
which falls to the lot of the leader. 

During a succession of favorable years they thrive 




±s 



Carolina Wren 



and multiply and one hears of them from places at 
which they had not been previously seen. Then 
comes a winter with exceptionally heavy snowfall 
and with storms of ice and sleet that prevent the 
birds from securing food, when the little colonies at 
the outposts die of starvation and the ground gained 
by generations is lost in a single season. Only the 
hardiest individuals survive and it is their progeny 



FOREST BIRDS 175 

which takes the leading part in regaining the lost 
ground. 

Thus these pioneers gradually become fitted to 
endure hardships which more southern members of 
their species could not endure, and the range of their 
kind is slowly extended. 

Every one who knows the Carolina Wren will 
wish him good fortune in conquering new territory. 
His activity and his loud, ringing, musical voice 
make him a prominent and welcome figure in the 
bird life of the community he inhabits. He looks 
half again as large as the House Wren and is 
brighter, more cinnamon in color, with a conspicuous 
whitish line above the eye. His song is in no sense 
a trill but consists of a variety of clean-cut notes, 
most of which may be closely imitated by a skillful 
whistler. His alarm note is a loud, rolling chir-r- 
ring which resembles the call of a tree-toad as well 
as that of the Red-headed Woodpecker; and if one 
could whistle the words "tea-kettle, tea-kettle, tea- 
kettle," the sound produced would resemble one of 
this Wren's most characteristic calls. 

In the South the Carolina Wren at times lives 
about dwellings, but in the North he is usually a 
bird of the woods, frequenting fallen tree-tops and 
thick undergrowths. 



176 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

Mockingbird 

All that has been said of the pioneering habits of 
the Carolina Wren applies also to the Mockingbird. 
We associate this famous songster with magnolia, 
yellow jessamine and palms, but it lives as far north 
as Massachusetts, where a few venturesome indi- 
viduals spend the entire year, for, like the Carolina 
Wren, the Mockingbird is not truly migratory. 

The only bird with which we may confuse the 
Mockingbird is the Shrike, but the resemblance is 
only superficial and when one is familiar with both, 
there is small possibility of mistaking one for the 
other. The Mockingbird is more slender and has 
a much longer tail; there are no black markings 
about its head and when it flies the white markings 
in its wings are more conspicuous, while if one is 
near enough, the rather long, slender bill of the 
Mockingbird can not be mistaken for the stout 
hooked weapon of the Shrike. 

I recall a Mockingbird which one November ap- 
peared near the Museum of Natural History in New 
York City. Its fare consisted mainly of the berries 
of a Virginia creeper which covered some rocks in 
the museum grounds. This was before the day of 
the Starlings, which now make such short work of 



FOREST BIRDS i 77 

the yearly crop of these berries, and the Mocking- 
bird's supply of provisions might have lasted him 
throughout the winter if it had not been covered by 
a heavy fall of snow. The weather was unusually 

i( 




Mockingbird 



severe, the mercury falling below zero, but the 
Mockingbird discovered a new source of food in the 
berries of the privet and seemed not to suffer from 
the cold. Strange it was to hear his sharp, kissing 
alarm-note, which I had long associated with more 
southern scenes, mingled with the voices of children 



178 OUR WINTER BIRDS 

who were coasting merrily past the tree in which he 
was perching. 

Food, therefore, is the all important thing, and 
as long as birds are well-fed, even those which are 
not accustomed to cold weather can withstand a 
surprisingly low temperature. I have known of a 
number of Mockingbirds which survived a northern 
winter as guests at a bird-lover's lunch-counter. It 
is not often, however, that we are honored by such 
a distinguished bird visitor. 



INDEX 



Birds, Dutchcr window-box Crossbill, American, 167 



for, 18 
feeding stand for, 18, 

19 
food for, 16, 19 
in summer, 4 
inviting the, 14 
in winter, 3, 4, 5, 11 
number seen in one day, 

11, 12 
our allies, 5 
shelter for, 15, 16 
value to man, 6-12 
why we should know 

them, 10 
window shelf for, 18 

Bob-white, 120 

Bunting, Snow, 102 

Cardinal, 58 
Cats and birds, 14 
Chickadee, 9, 10, 24 
Chickadee, Carolina, 29 

Hudsonian, 29 
Creeper, Brown, 73 



Red, 167 

White-winged, 167 
Crossbills, 165 
Crow, 97 

Field Birds, 95 
Finch, Purple, 80 
Flicker, 61 
Forest Birds, 133 

Goldfinch, 69 
Goshawk, 138 
Grosbeak, Evening, 159, 
162 
Pine, 160, 161 
Grouse, Ruffed, 154 

Hawk, Broad-winged, 137 
Cooper's, 137, 141, 142 

Marsh, 137 
Red-shouldered, 137, 138, 

139, 143 
Red-tail, 137, 139, 140, 

H3 



179 



i8o 



INDEX 



Hawk, Sharp-shinned, 137, 
138, 139, 14I1 J 42, 
143 
Sparrow, 125 
Hawks, food, 136 

place in nature, 134 
Home Birds, 23 

Jay, Blue, 53 
Junco, 71 

Kinglet, Golden-crowned, 86 

Lark, Horned, 108 
Longspur Lapland, 109 

Meadowlark, 1 1 6 
Mockingbird, 1 76 

Nuthatch, Red-breasted, 35 
White-breasted, 30 

Owl, Barred, 147 
Great Horned, 145 
Long-eared, 147 



Owl, Saw-whet, 153 

Screech, 88, 147 

Short-eared, 129 
Owls, food of, 148 

Place in nature, 144 

Planting for food and shel- 
ter, 15, 16 

Redpoll, 96, 105 

Shrike, Northern, 112 

Siskin, 106 

Sparrow, English, 20, 45, 96 
Song, 66 
Tree, 7, 8, 102 
White-throated, 76 

Starling, European, 49 

Titmouse, Tufted, 171 

Waxwing, Cedar, 82 
Woodpecker, Downy, 37 

Hairy, 43 
Wren, Carolina, 173 

Winter, 169 



(i) 



Winter Landbirds of 
Northeastern United States 



Plate II (Scale * 



■OKIE. FOOT 



II2I3UI5I6 T7T81 



Ighoiiilial / 



Permanent Resident Species or those which are with us 
throughout the year 



20. Blue Jay 

21 . Flicker, male 

22. Flicker, female 

23. Meadowlark 

24. Starling, winter 

25. Starling, summer 

26. Downy Woodpecker, male 

27. Downy Woodpecker, female 

28. Hairy Woodpecker, male 

29. Hairy Woodpecker, female 

30. English Sparrow, male 



31 . English Sparrow, female 

32. Purple Finch, female 

33. Purple Finch, male 

34. Song Sparrow 

35. Goldfinch, female 

36. Goldfinch, male 

37. Chickadee 

38. White-breasted Nuthatch, male 

39. White-breasted Nuthatch, fe- 
male 

40. Cedar Waxwing 



Winter Visitant Species or those which come from the North 
in the Fall and Remain until Spring 



41. Saw-whet Owl 

42. Prairie Horned Lark 

43. Junco 

44. Tree Sparrow 

45. White-throated Sparrow, adult 

46. White-throated Sparrow, young 

47. Redpoll, female 

48. Redpoll, male 

49. Red Crossbill, male 

50. Red Crossbill, female 

51 . White-winged Crossbill, male 

52. White- winged Crossbill, female 



53. Pine Grosbeak, male 

54. Pine Grosbeak, female 

55. Siskin 

56. Northern Shrike 

57. Snow Bunting 

58. Winter Wren 

59. Brown Creeper 

60. Red-breasted Nuthatch, male 

61 . Red-breasted Nuthatch, female 

62. Golden-crowned Kinglet, female 

63. Golden-crowned Kinglet, male 







Permanent Residents 




Vs/inter Visitants 




Q00111Sflb7S 




